Lucid Dreams
by Panickid23
Summary: Alicia is a photographer known for her glam-kink photos. She also works at Arkham Asylum. Will she lose everything for the shot of a lifetime? Or will she join the rank of crazies in the mad house that can only be Gotham? OC/Batman/Scarecrow/Joker
1. Introductions

**WEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAAA!! I'm back!! I'm suffering from IFOF (Idea Fuckin' Over Flow) so I'm jus rollin with it like a Firestone Tire!!**

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"Move forward a bit will you?" The model hunched forward, resting her hand on her naked hip. She stood in front of the mirror, red hair like rivulets of fire down hair back, in all her naked glory. Her body was soft, curved where it was needed and frothing with femininity. And there sat the photographer, Alicia, on the floor behind her, face obscured by her Canon EOS Digital.

_.Click. Pose. Click. Pose. Clickity Clack Click_

Poses were used, pictures taken, and finally Alicia stood up, peeling of her tank top as she handed a short, older man the camera.

"What the hell are you doing? The shoots over!" Alicia thought over her answer as her jeans fell in a pool on the floor and she re-strapped her bright red platform heels, coming to stand in front of the mirror, looking about the room. Next to the mirror was a bed, on its other side, a large window that made up the wall.

"Actually, the shoot with that particular model is over. My turn Rog!" She cheered and ran to the bed beside the mirror, jumping into the warm blankets. The old man looked at her with blue eyes and ran his hands through salt-white hair.

"Get ready then. Just know that these are being submitted with the other crap in your portfolio for the Gotham Underground exhibit."He took a picture. _Click._

"Ain't that next weekend?" Alicia inquired as she walked over to the window, looking out at the dawn light that hovered over Gotham, and made you believe the city was calm and peaceful. But a real Gothamite knew otherwise- knew of the evils that were bubbling out of the doors.

_Click._

"Yes, but they love your work so they'd be insane not to let you get away with it." She nodded and stood before the mirror, examining herself as she watch Roger wait for her signal. Like the first redhead model, she was feminine.

Only her body seemed darker- despite the long sunshine blonde hair, red lips, and brown eyes- the picture of the women the 1960's stood on, but a slightly butchered version. She usually had a cigar hanging out of her mouth (she only used cigarettes when she was on the job or couldn't get the good stuff), nothing a 1960's debutante would be caught dead with.

She signaled for him to stop and went for her bag, taking out her cigarettes. She quickly got dressed and stood in front of Roger, mussing up her hair.

"Get a close-up of my lips will you? I'll put it in black and white later. It'll look cooler that way." Even when she was modeling, she was controlling the whole shoot.

Roger was her right hand man, her father figure, and she trusted him alone with the task of using her camera. However, when she wasn't modeling, she liked to shoot the bizarre side of Gotham. The freak shows, the dominatrix, the hookers, their pimps, the addicts, the even seedier side of Gotham, the City of Eternal Dark.

She spent all her free time bathing in scandal that could potentially ruin her other job.

Her job at Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan Crane hated straitjackets.

They were irritating. Right arm over left shoulder, left arm over right, and the ends of the sleeves strapped somewhere in the middle of your back. Not to mention Arkham, his old playground, just _happened_ to invest in the newest ones (complete with crotch straps) _right_ when he was thrown in this shit hole. Life was indeed cruel to him. Since he lacked any other activity to choose from, he went down the lists of things he hated about Arkham, something he found himself doing often now.

1.) The food- or at least that's what they called it- was total shit.  
2.) The guards-the same ones he'd handpicked when he still ran he place like a treadmill- were assholes and when he broke out, he planned on killing them all. **_All of them_**.  
3.) Most importantly, he was no longer in charge.

That last one, the crucial one, was the one that made him angriest. Before the Bat threw him in here, he'd run the show. His patients unwittingly became lab rats for the toxin he'd gassed the entire Narrows with. He'd felt what it was like to have utter control over thousands of people. He couldn't do it alone though, no he was too weak for that. None of that would've been possible if it weren't for the Scarecrow.

The man in the burlap mask who took Crane over and did things the man could only dream of. Scarecrow made both his name and Jonathan Crane's a household one, and not in a good way. A tale told to children to make them behave.

They had complete power.

Only to have it taken from under him, the very toxin he'd brought to life the culprit. And the Batman. Batman- the Masked Crusader- who donned Kevlar and went around beating the holy hell out of Gotham's Underbelly.

"Hey Cob Swabber!" John turned his head, a sigh slipping out his pursed lips. The guard lifted him up roughly by his shoulder, and Crane felt the blood flow to his whole arm cut off completely.

Bruises? Definitely.

"What brings you here this glorious morning Freddy?" Crane said sardonically, regretting it when the meaty hand on his shoulder moved to land a blow to his jaw with a loud _crunch_.

"Remember the rules Johnny? Don't speak to me unless I speak to you and tell you otherwise." Fred said, running a hand through his salt and cinnamon hair. He then grabbed the clipboard from outside Jonathon's cell and let his beady shark eyes skim down it quickly.

"You got a session with the new doctor."

"Doctor?" John asked, disappointment filling his voice.

He much preferred to be left alone. He'd gone through about 5 doctors already, all of which he'd scared off. Didn't they understand that all he wanted was peace?

Or at least about as much peace you could get in a straitjacket?

_Well, she won't last long, _John thought, b_y the time I'm done with her, she'll be on the first bus out of Gotham. I don't even understand why these shrinks decide to come to Gotham anyway._

"Yeah. Her names....Alicia somethin'. Real Fox. 5"4, blonde..." He droned as he dragged the restrained man up the stairs, through the halls, to an office door.

"Here you are, "Fred said, and slammed the smaller man against the opposite wall," and let's make sure you got this straight. Listen here you little shit- you scare her away like the others and I'll stick my foot so far up your ass-"

"Mr. Barnes, how is my patient supposed to get better when you keep riding his balls about his behavior? Not to mention you're threatening to beat the shit out of a mental patient, one who suffered psychological trauma due to extreme violence in his youth? Tsk tsk tsk," a female voice said nonchalantly from behind the grey haired beast.

"Alicia!" Fred cried, dropping Crane to the floor and turning around.

_Limey bastard..._Crane thought as he looked at the back of the man head, wishing a bullet were in it.

"I don't know what's wrong with him! He attacked me out of nowhere it was li-"

"First off, it's Dr. Kneeley. Second, he's in a straightjacket Mr. Barnes. Hey you," she said, peeking her head around to look at Crane," You senselessly and violently attack Freddy?" When he said nothing, she walked over and helped him up. Crane's ears were turning pink as he watched Fred try to explain himself to the woman. She was attractive- almost unfairly so. Blonde curls the color of sunshine, chocolate eyes sparked with mischief, red lips, and a perfect coke bottle body. She was dressed in a electric blue lace long sleeve bustier, black a-line skirt, and blue pumps.

"Let him off the jacket. He can't do any harm. I mean, the man can't even piss without somebody's help." The restraints fell in an instant in a cream pool around his ankles, leaving him in a grey flannel shirt and matching sweatpants.

"Well, Bye. I gotta go watch the other patients in the Rec room." Fred said, smiling at her and turning to silently snarl at him.

"Oh, no need for that," she said, watching as Fred's stupid face twisted into confusion, "you're fired." She turned to Crane and motioned for him to come inside, leaving Frank red as a beet in the hall.

He was starting to like this shrink.


	2. Some Kinda Screwed

All like disappeared for the blonde shrink when he sat in the chair in front of her desk. He noticed that, unlike the other doctors, she didn't try to battle the insanity by way of decorating her office. No posters of small animals or motivational sayings. Or an atrocious tie-dye carpet.

In fact, instead of resisting the madness, she partook in it.

First, the walls were an eggplant _purple_. **PURPLE**. The furniture was comfortable, in alternating white and navy blue. Behind her were small pictures of people and places- probably all personal. On the floor adjacent to the gigantic window was a jaymar baby piano. And, hanging from the ceiling, was a birdcage.

_Where's__ **my** __office?!!!!_

John asked himself as he fidgeted in the chair. All the while, Dr. Kneeley watched an amused smile on her face. He glanced at her and steeled himself to become cold. Fred was canned now, so he could get rid of her and try to erase the memories of her strange-yet-somehow-appealing-office.

_Get it together man....breathe!!!_ He closed his eyes and opened them again, the blue hardened to ice.

"I don't want to talk right now."

"Well, that's too damn bad Dr. Crane. We have exactly 2 hours in this bitch and I don't plan on wasting it staring at you as you stare at the ceiling," behind his icy eyes, he was shocked.

Did she just tell him no?

As a matter fact, did she swear at him?

"Do you realize what I could do to you if you keep this up?"

"What? You'll jump over my desk and break my frail body with your superhuman strength?" she purred, watching him with impish wheat-colored eyes. They continued to stare at one another, neither giving in to the other. Usually he'd just talk about shit so morbid it made his therapists sick, or intimidate them.

Unfortunately, that wasn't going to work with this one. It was obvious she had brain cells. He'd have to try outsmarting

"You think making me sit here will make me open up? That we'll become friends?" he said rather quickly, and almost shivered at the predatory smile Kneeley gave him. The game was on.

"Never said that," she said just as quickly, spurring Crane on.

"But you want it to happen."

"I just wanna do my job. If we become friends, that's bonus points on my moral compass. Lord knows I need the extra help."

"What, befriend the psychopath and get a one way ticket to redemption?"

"You're not psychotic." he paused at this, scrutinizing her. Was she insane? Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow, was sane?

"You don't mean that."

"Why would I lie to you? To make you feel better about yourself? That's not anywhere in my job description," she said, leaning forward in her chair, golden hair framing her face.

"People are selfish beings. It's just a part of the everyday human's genetic makeup. So you're either lying to me to manipulate me or just wanna fuck with my head."

"No, people are just shamelessly selfish in your mind. You perceive them to have an ulterior motive just below the surface at all times. There's more to a person than that Dr. Crane."

"WHY DO YOU KEEP CALLING ME THAT?!" He lunged forward, bringing his hands to rest on the desk. Kneeley didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Because that's who you are. You're Doctor Jonathan Crane, age 27, correct?"

"No, not anymore. I haven't the power that old title came with. The roles have been reversed as you can see."

"So you think that without power, you aren't the person you see every day in the mirror?" the Good Doctor asked, watching as Crane reattached himself from the desk to the chair.

"Without power, you are nothing."

"So you think I have some power over you because I replaced you?"

"Pretty fuckin much, "Then he realized her hand was moving. And a pencil was in it. She'd been writing this _whole time_. Jonathon stared at her small hand as it flew across the notepad she'd somehow secured from her desktop. All the while, she was looking at him. A timer dinged, and she smiled, looking like the cat that just ate 20 canaries.

"Well that's all for today Dr. Crane, "the satisfied smile widened, "I look forward to continuing this. See you soon." Crane was mechanical as he walked out the door into the awaiting arms of a new guard. He'd lost his own game. To an Arkham employee, and a woman at that.

She'd played the game well and with enthusiasm-something Crane hadn't seen before- and won.

10 AM. It'd taken her over 9 hours to pick out her final photos to submit into the GU exhibit. She'd just dropped off her portfolio at Roger's place, and she felt a nice morning walk was in order. So she put her bag in the doorway of her flat, fed her great Danes Ghost & Zero*, and headed outside into the cold morning air.

Today was going to be a good day.

As she walked through the city, she noticed how empty it seemed. Everyone seemed to have retreated to the warm cafes and homes, leaving her to walk the city alone. She didn't mind, she wanted the loneliness. She had to figure out what her surprise was before it jumped out of a cake and gave her a heart attack.

Rog told her that since the GU had handpicked her (you usually have to grovel to be _glanced at_) to display her work, they should celebrate.

He put in a reservation for some art-deco restaurant named Pursuit and said to 'expect a surprise'. If you knew Alicia Kneeley, you'd come to realize she hated surprises. If the 23 year old hated anything in the world, it was a surprise.

Why? Because they surprised you, that's why- and that was a _damned_ good reason to hate them if you asked her, a _damn good reason_.

When she'd met Jonathan Crane, the crazed man wearing a goddamn potato sack on his head and poisoning millions of random people, she was at ease. He obviously wanted power, and she played off it to get him to stop his bitching and open up a little. Even with a 'High and Mighty' stick rammed up his ass, Crane wants to tell somebody his troubles whether he realizes it or not.

Alicia looked around and walked across the street, deciding she should warm up a bit so she wouldn't catch frostbite on her way home. Gotham First National Bank stood in front of her, classical architecture another reason to love the age-old city.

Once you got past the impossibly high crime rate of course.

She walked into the old building, lungs filling with warm air as she rubbed her hands together.

"Hey, what the hell are you doin?"A gravelly voice called out, and screams tore through the building. Alicia turned and saw a clown running at her with what looked like a semi-automatic rifle.

_What the fuck?! Is that an UZI?!!_

"Oh shit!" she ran out the door, peeling as fast as she could away from the man. Running was like breathing to her- after all, she _had_ been in track since middle school. She turned behind her to see if she'd lost him, and her heart leaped into her mouth as a yellow bus ran rampant on the sidewalk, horn honking away.

Even through the glass, she could see the red smile.

A seed of fear sprouted into her chest as she picked up even more speed and looked around wildly for some smidgen of hope. She turned to her right and ran straight into................

an alley.

"FUCK!!!!" She wailed as she ran headfirst into the back wall of a building. Turning slowly, she heard the bus stop and the doors open. A man got out, and he was more horrifying than when she'd glanced him on the bus. Now she could take in every detail of the insanity.

He had on a slightly dusty purple suit, green button-up shirt neat and ironed underneath it. His hair was matted and stringy and a shade of green that could only be accomplished by an ungodly dye job, and years of not being washed. His face was what made her heart stop beating. His heavily made up face, powder white against black rings. His red lips were a torn and badly sewn on smile, the skin uneven where it healed over.

"Hello Doll," he said easily, voice nasal and highly amused. Alicia decide she was going to need a hell of a miracle, because the fact was: she was **_fucked_**. If there was one thing she knew, it was that you didn't ruin any job of the Joker's unless you wanted a gnarly variation if the smile. And judging by the way he was rubbing his blade, Alicia was about to get just that.

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**Whoa, major cliffhanger!**


	3. Hello Dolly!

**Ah, back finally! I've been busy these last few weeks, but I'm going to make up for it! Enjoy!!! :D**

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_Shit! Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit ....and a big fat FUCK!_

Alicia chanted mentally as the Joker teasingly placed one dress-shoe in front of the other, whistling something that was too happy to go with the current situation.

In her professional opinion anyway.

She looked around her for something that slightly resembled a way out. It was getting unnaturally dark, the black sky dropping soft white pellets down around them.

"Dontcha jus _love_ snow?" the Joker said in a singsong voice, stopping to play in a small pile of it. Alicia ignored it and turned to look behind her. The wall was more of a fence, made of wood and about eight feet tall.

_Fuck_. She almost turned back until she saw the holes. Holes that could easily be used as foot holes.

"Yes," she whispered and looked back to see the Joker still acting like a kid in a candy store. Heart thumping wildly, she turned and tensed her legs up for the jump. But something snagged her hood and she was thrown back.

"Hello Dolly!" the nasally voice suddenly became a snarl as the Joker grinned evilly over her. His gums were black and the teeth yellowed and diseased, but his breath was surprisingly....fresh. She stared at him, eyes wide with fear as he pulled her up and backed her up against the stony wall.

"Ya know doll," he said, his lips flicking across his horrendous scars," I, uh, robbed that bank over there. Ya know tha big one down tha street? Ya know tha one. Anyway, I hired some guys to, uh, help me get the job done. Only thing was, I decided to make it a little..._interesting_. Ya see Doll, I told the guys helpin me to kill the partner they were workin' with on a specific part of the heist and they' get a bonus from the big man on top. In case you were wondering who that was, it's me. Then, uh, you showed your pretty little face. My men decided to go after you, even when I tol' 'em ta stay with the plan so you know what I did?" he asked, giggling like a schoolgirl and shaking Alicia.

"Well do ya? C'mon, guess!!" he said, still smiling. Alicia shook her head and shrugged, afraid he'd do something if she spoke. She wasn't thinking about what could happen if she didn't.

"I said guess!" the snarl was back and he shook her violently, the knife glinting from his hand. Snow fell around them, the cold wind making her even colder than she had been. The only heat, coming from the Joker's hand as they threatened to snap her thin arms.

"you k-k-killed them?" Joker thought about it for a moment before letting her go.

"Good girl! Yea, I killed 'em. Had to ya know. I shot 'em all, even the bus driver that was sposed ta be drivin me home. And here we are!" he motioned to the narrow alley, giggly tone back. Alicia backed up against the fence again, trying to make as much space between them as possible.

"Ya know what now Dolly?" the Joker asked, ignoring the snow piling on his shoulders as he wagged the knife back and forth. Alicia yelped as he ran toward her, closing the little distance they had between them. He traced little patterns all over her face with the tip of the blade.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head back when he dug a little too hard into the cheeks of her face. He tilted it forward again, watching with a smile as little blood droplets fell down her face like tears.

"Anybody ever told ya that ya look just like Jayne Mansfield? Ya really do. Hey," he gasped, like he just thought of the cure for cancer, "Guess what again?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna show you how I got my smile!" Instinct kicked in and she head butted the man. _Hard_. He fell back, the make-up on his forehead gone. Alicia turned around and jumped, her hands catching in the first hole she could reach. She pulled herself up and placed her foot in it, climbing up until her fingertips grazed the top of the fence.

"Oh no you don't!" A gloved hand grabbed her ankle and she was falling backward, the fence getting farther away. Then she hit the icy concrete with a sickening crunching noise as she recognized the burning feeling of something breaking. the Joker walked to stand over her, panting heavily as blood ran from his head into his black eyes.

"I.....I....wooo **_dayum_**....I like a little fight in em." He laughed breathily and bent over her. His head was hit once again when she kicked him in the face. Pain shot up her spine as she rose and used his face as leverage to stand up. As soon as she was up, so was he. The Joker grunted and started to laugh as they circled one another, the knife switching hands as Alicia shakily watched the calm killer in front of her size her up.

_No way in hell I'm gonna die in a goddamn alley with you, ya grimy fuck. _She thought as they locked eyes, the Joker still laughing. Even as she was getting dizzy, she noticed she wasn't the least bit afraid.

Matter of fact she was _pissed_.

Every step hurt and she was positive that her skin was turning blue from the cold.

"Ya cold dolly?" the Joker asked mockingly, taking the opportunity to charge at her like a mad bull. Alicia barely dodged it, pushing him face first into the wall behind her. The knife clinked to the ground and she lurched for it. He quickly recovered and kicked it down the alley, smashing a few of her fingers in the process. She grunted and stood up, trying to shake the pain off her hand.

"Shit," she whimpered, shaking her hand harder as he giggled, fully enjoying this.

"Hahaha this is fun! We should do it more often," he said, serious for a minute before his black eyes turned up into a fit of laughter. She ran for the knife, snow crunching under her feet as she grasped it tip first, her skin breaking and dying the snow a bright red.

"Ah ah ah. That ain't how ya hold a knife proper!" the Joker chastised, grabbing her by the ankle when she tried to run away with the knife and twisted, watching her flip over and land on her back. She howled as her foot lay limp on the ground at a weird angle, obscenities of every kind spewing red hot from her mouth.

"Stupid prick shit god dammit mother fucking cock-sucker.....SHIIT! FUUUUUCK that hurts! Bitch!" She wailed, ignoring the tears when the Joker stopped to look at her like she was the crazy one.

"Wow Doll. That's quite the mouth ya got. Lemme give you a smile ta match." He grabbed for the knife and she raised her knee to connect with his unprotected crotch.

"SWEET BALLS!" he cried, high-pitched giggles falling from his mouth. Alicia turned over gingerly and crawled, the target the mouth of the alley, knife still in hand. She growled in frustration when the Joker straddled her back, pinning her to the ground. She coughed wheezily, blood splattering all over the ground.

"This was fun, I gotta admit. But now, I'm bored, so if ya don't mind Dolly," he trailed off, raising the hand with the knife in it. He twisted sharply and Alicia could **_taste_** the bone as the silent air was filled with a sickening crack. The pain was dull, though. Alicia was freezing, sore, and dead tired.

"You should take a load off Doll..." the Joker cackled as her eyes went fuzzy as she tried to keep them open. she thought she felt something graze her face, but the real pain started with a digging sensation somewhere on her body.

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**oooh Cliffhanger, gotta love 'em! Welp, the next chap should be up soon, so RATE & REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	4. When You're Bored

Alicia hurt.

Everywhere. Every nerve in her body was on fire, screaming for relief. It felt like she'd been brutally beaten by a scarred mad man.

Not exactly the most original analogy, but that's what it felt.

"Fuck, I'm sore. I need a cigar. A fat, stinky, illegal Cuban cigar. That or a big ass bottle of Jose Cuervo," she mumbled to herself, annoyed that she didn't have either of those things in this dark ass room.

"Nice to know that if your personality was a person it wouldn't look as shitty as you do right now." A gravelly voice from the shadows. Alicia recognized the voice, she'd recognize it anywhere.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise. The Batman." She watched with mild amusement as the blinds of the window opened. She realized she was in a hospital room. Probably Gotham General by the looks of it. And there stood the Knight. Batman in his black Kevlar, the costume clinging to every muscle on his body, giving Alicia a pretty nice idea of how he looked naked. But she didn't need an idea. She already knew.

"Or are you Bruce tonight?" The masked man chuckled and sat down on the bed, and it creaked loudly under his weight.

"I'm whatever you need me to be," he said, the gravel smoothing to polished black marble. Alicia mulled this over, flexing her hand. Or tried to anyway. She looked down at the neon purple and then looked up at him.

"Purple. Nice touch Batty." he moved her arm into the light so she could read the scribble on it.

_Well, nice move Alicia. Try not to trip over your shadow for the next couple of weeks. Or walk into a wall with that damned camera you love so much.  
-B_

"Just vague enough to be from either Bruce or Batman, I gotcha. So, what's my prognosis doc?" His green eyes darkened and the marble cracked a little.

"A broken pinky, index, and forefinger. Four fractured ribs, 5 completely destroyed ones, a dislocated leg, broken ankle and your other arm is broken. Oh, and you have hypothermia." she mulled it over and fidgeted a bit, a pain shooting up her spine. Then she felt something slick and wet dripping down to her lower back.

"What the fuck is that dripping down my back?!" He stared at her for a minute before turning on the bedside table lamp and handing a photo.

It was a picture of her. She was on her back, her shirt gone and her lacy green bra open. On her back was a large carving. She paled as she read it. Didn't take long, since it was a single letter.

_J._

She turned the picture over and felt her heart thump to a stop. It was the Joker's calling card. A Joker from a deck of cards. She was on his list.

"Shit," she whispered, dropping the card and looking out the window. Bruce touched her shoulder gingerly.

"You're on protective detail Alicia. You have armed guards in front of your door around the clock. When you're discharged, you'll have an escort with you at all times. You'll be fine."

"Fine? That's what they said about that Judge!" she hissed, wanting to grab something, but she was completely immobilized. Bruce peeled the mask off and caressed her cheek. She shook him off angrily.

"It doesn't matter if you're protecting me around the clock. He may be crazy, but he isn't stupid. He managed to get around your protective detail three times. If he wants me dead, he'll kill me." she snarled, falling back on the bed.

"Look at me Bruce," she said, motioning with her only good hand (which wasn't really all that good)," I'm a sitting duck." Bruce ran a gloved hand through his black locks before running them through hers.

"I promised when we were together that I'd protect you. That promise will still be kept." he reassured, but Alicia scoffed and turned her head away.

"You can't now Bruce- sorry, Batman- you couldn't then. I had to share you with the rest of Gotham. And I still do, don't I?" The sound of wind going through a cape told her the answer as a tear snuck its way down her face.

* * *

Crane was bored. And severely irritated. He was supposed to visit Dr. Kneeley, but she'd never sent for him. That was _six_ weeks ago. There was nothing for him to do. He couldn't even jerk off anymore, since the guards took the chance to put him back in the jacket. He'd been doing that a lot lately, especially when they stopped giving him his meds. When the anti-psychosis pills stopped coming, an old friend took their place. He found his insane half- well, the other one anyway- had found a new plaything. And when he did, he forced the images of what he could do to that plaything into his mind.

_A million and one ways to break a pretty toy Jonathon..._ But John couldn't lie to himself and Scarecrow: the fantasies were alluring. Especially the one where he defaced her dying body in the most demeaning ways possible, ways Crane never dreamed of. The arousal would creep up his spine, and Crane would find his hand around Jonathon Jr., twisting and pulling roughly, Scarecrow moaning like a slut in the back of his mind for Jonathan to go harder, faster, further driving them to that peak. But, that small little pleasure was snatched from him about 3 weeks ago by some idiot guards. And, unlike Crane, Scarecrow got sexually frustrated- which meant he would be trying to take him over.

_Ya know Crane, I wanna see this Doctor for myself, ya know? Ta see if she's really all that and a cup of Joe. Especially those tits of hers...sweet Christ..._

_"_Why? So you can strangle her with her stockings and cut her into a million tiny pieces?" The Scarecrow chuckled in his mind, and John felt a loving caress on his cheek. Then his alter ego was in front of him, hands on Crane's knees. He was John's exact mirror image, down to the last freckle and eyelash, except his eyes were a black that seemed empty, but hid the clever workings behind them nicely. That was a common symptom of his fear toxin. He'd used to mix it with LSD, so the victim's pupil dilated so much it actually engulfed the irises. The mask was tied around his neck should he decide to put it on and hurt Crane in some way.

"Naw, just for kicks. Shits and giggles and all that. I won't kill her, rape and probably beat her within an inch of her life, but not kill her."

"You underestimate her, like you do everyone else. She's got a brain in that pretty blonde head. If you keep that up, it'll be just like that time we got tasered in the face by that ADA whore," Scarecrow got up, leaning against Crane.

"But I've never," he whispered, unstrapping Crane's straitjacket and throwing it across the room, "underestimated," Crane laid back on the mat, his elbows the only things keeping him up as the Crow spoke against his lips, "you." His alter ego sighed, running his cold hands up and under Crane's shirt and attacking his twin's mouth. Crane twisted his head, trying to pull the Scarecrow off of him.

"No, we can't do this here." The Scarecrow groaned against his neck, pulling up.

"Why?" he whined, fingers still splayed all over Crane's chest and stomach.

"Because the guards-"

"Jonathon, we're locked on the bottom floor, this cell the only one they built down here. You're dead to the world above. They only come when they remember you, and that aint often since your shrink went AWOL. The room is soundproof, padded, and warm. It also lacks one of those tiny windows on the door, so what other reasons do you need?" Crane thought tentatively, finger rubbing against his lip unconsciously. His darker twin snatched it away and put it down.

"Don't do that Jonathon. Now, can I __ fuck you through the floor?" he mumbled something unintelligible before nodding. His alter ego squealed in joy, before Jonathan pulled him down and attacked his mouth, shutting him up. He met the shadows' lips in a kiss, delving deeply into his mouth... He felt full and surrounded by his other persona, pushed down further into the mattress by narrow hips and broad shoulders. Thin fingers caressed his scalp, twisting in his hair, ‑ becoming that much more entwined with him.

Scarecrow untied the mask from around his neck and neatly tucked it into the back of his pants, deciding he'd need it later. He worked his tongue into Crane's mouth, twisting their tongues together in the hot, wet cavern. That deft tongue wandered farther down, mapping out Jonathon's throat as his hands resumed their play on his chest.

"Shit, you see what you make me Jonathon when I get all hot and bothered?" Scarecrow said when Crane broke the kiss to breath, the lack of air making him dizzy. Scarecrow looked with amazement and lust at his flushed prize below him, panting for air with his shirt raked all the way up, exposing the creamy flesh underneath. Jonathan's body was a wonder.

It was feminine, with soft curves and dainty features, but it was utterly masculine, exerting the power he believed he'd lost during his incarceration. The contrasts were appetizing to the sex-starved maniac that had escaped the depths of his Creator's mind.

"Damn you're sexy..." the twin moaned, more to himself than Jonathon, running a finger over one of the hardened nubs, licking his lips at the soft mewl Crane let out. He went from just touching to pinching, rolling it lazily between his fingers before yanking it roughly, repeating the treatment on Crane's unabused nipple. He knew what his lover liked- gentle at first before the pleasure-invoked abuse kicked in. He knew what it felt like to be treated so contrastingly during sex.

Or glorified masturbation. Scarecrow bowed his head, giving each nipple a wet suck before licking a sloppy path down to the Good Doctor's navel, dipping his tongue in and out before he nipped the skin around it, the tiny but pleasurable gesture promising satisfaction.

Crane was a hot mess, panting and moaning like a back alley prostitute, but then again, that's the way they liked it. Jonathon Crane too bothered to even speak coherently and Scarecrow trying to find ways to further debilitate his ability to think and speak. Crane bucked up, tired of foreplay now.

3 weeks of no sort of intimate contact now seemed like a year, and he was itching to scratch.

Scarecrow pulled up again, ignoring Jonathon's impatient groans and threw his shirt in some random direction.

"Eager aren't we?" the twisted twin smiled darkly as he rubbed Jonathon's hole through the fabric gruffly, almost laughing at the strangled words that tumbled out of his mouth.

"Fuck me now o-ah-or I'm steali-steali....ah shit...just fuck me a-a-already," Jonathan whined, pushing down on the finger best he could with his sweats still on. He almost cheered when his sweatpants slid off, long fingers wrapping around his naked hips, bringing his face down to nuzzle the hardened length adoringly.

"No underwear....delicious," Crane faintly heard the growl of approval before he was swallowed whole, feeling the back of his alter ego's throat. The air left his chest in rush only to be sucked back in a panicked gasp, his mind completely shut down. It was hot, hotter than anything he'd ever felt, like when you're hands are really cold and you dip them in hot water; but most importantly, it was tight and wet. Scarecrow's nails dug into his hips as he bobbed his head up and down over his cock. The suction had Jonathon making involuntary whimpers as he knocked his head into the sorry excuse for a pillow beneath him.

Each time the man sucked back, Jonathon could feel his orgasm begin pulled from every inch of his ‑ lithe body, it tingled all over, heavy between his thin legs. His cock was pulled unbearably deeper into the searing throat; then Scarecrow swallowed around his dick and his vision went white, back arching impossibly before his knees buckled and fell against the bed.

Crow picked the crumpled mess up, a sly grin on his face as he swallowed Jonathon's essence.

"Don't think you're a god or anything," he panted weakly, smacking Scarecrow weakly in the chest.

"You're damn skippy I'm a god...you almost turned into a damn puddle...I call that shit right there talent. I will now be referred to as the God of Sex, Jonathon. The Master of Orgasm!"

"Then why am I still not entirely satisfied?" Scarecrow's sly smile widened as he tugged his pants off. He dangled the mask in front of Jonathon, _his_Jonathon. Said man shivered violently, anticipating what was to come.

"I'll fix that soon enough...but now it's my turn. Taking care of ya is a double-edge sword," he said, sitting with his legs open, his metaphorical 'wound' obvious between his thighs. Jonathon's mouth was suddenly dry, his tongue heavy with thirst. Scarecrow sensed his plight and rolled his hips enticingly.

"Drink and be merry!" he purred as Jonathon took his cock in his hands and palmed the head, the sounds he made further arousing Scarecrow. Crane smiled and, firmly grasping his base with one hand, he flicked the tip of his tongue across the tip of his rock hard arousal. He took the very tip of him into his mouth, his lips caressing the warm, smooth skin they enveloped.

Teasing his tip a bit more, he then slid his lips down his shaft to meet his hand, still gripping his alter ego firmly there. He caressed his throbbing flesh with his tongue, feeling the heat coming from him, taking in the softness of his skin and the hardness beneath it.

He began to move his head back and forth, taking him into his mouth and then drawing him out almost completely, rapidly sometimes and then slowly, until he snaked his fingers into his somewhat damp, messy raven curls and gripped him tightly as he pleasured him with his lips and tongue. Removing his slender hand from Scarecrow's erection, he slipped it under his stiff rod to cup him there, gently squeezing and stroking him, feeling the intense heat rising between his legs.

The Good Doctor slid his mouth over the length belonging to the Master of Delusion once more, accepting as much of him as he could, until he brushed the back of his throat. Breathing in to expand it, his tip no longer gave him the urge to be sick.

Crane moaned whorishly, the vibrations rocketing through the Scarecrow and making him respond in kind, uttering his own deep groan of enjoyment. Taking it up a notch, Crane bit around his cock viciously, feeling the skin break. Blood poured into his mouth, and Scarecrow purred, trying to dig his cock into John's teeth.

Scarecrow was a bit of a masochist- much like Jonathon.

"Fuck.....harder," Scarecrow was panting now, digging his nails into Crane's scalp and dragging them down his back. Jonathan groaned, his throat tightening around his partner's length impossibly. Scarecrow torpedoed his hips further into John's mouth as he bent forward a little, just enough to tease and tear at John's hole, watching in mild fascination as his twin managed to give him head and fuck himself on the Scarecrow's fingers simultaneously. Jonathon even went as far as stopping, crying out against his alter ego's thigh as he raked harder, adding another finger. Through his sex fog, he remembered he was supposed to be blowing his other half and went back to it with a new fervor, moaning and grunting around his dick.

"You're such a slut," Scarecrow sighed, breaths turning panicky when Jonathon's mouth opened wider and his tense balls were enveloped in as sudden heat the Master of Delusions found unbearable, as they were pressed tightly against his dick.

"Shit that's good..." he pulled Crane off of him reluctantly, pressing his lips against his in a chaste kiss.

"Can we get to the good part now?" he whispered, picking up the mask and handing it to his partner. Scarecrow took Crane into his lap, rubbing his now painful erection against Jonathon's lower back, loving the whimper it got. Scarecrow parted his cheeks, hearing the sigh of relief from above.

But he wasn't done teasing him just yet.

He parted the cheeks of his beloved Jonathan's ass and roughly thrust against them, causing both males to groan in pleasure. He picked up his pace and Jonathan's eyes rolled back as his other half and teased his hole, "I'm about to die here!"

Scarecrow rolled his eyes and mumbled, his original plan was to torture Crane mercilessly till he got blue balls so he'd cum so hard it'd flood the room. But a certain sexy, horny, impatient bastard just _had_ to go and fuck it all up...

He took the mask and slowly placed it over his head, watching Jonathon's icy blue eyes flutter in lust as he watched.

Crane was in heaven when the mask finally slid on.

What had originally been his nightmare had come to him, a sex god, and an enigma. The smooth skin transformed into straw and burlap, prickling John's pale thighs in the most pleasant way.

"You ready?" Scarecrow, his Scarecrow, growled in that warped voice Crane found (through experience) had the power to have him turn into a steaming heap of molten sex. He grabbed the scratchy face, purring as the straw dug into his hands. His answer was a hot, open-mouth kiss. The pink tongue had turned to straw, and it scraped Jonathon's mouth as it wrapped around his own and pushed down his throat. He breathed heavily through his nose, and judging by the breath on tickling the bridge of his nose, Scarecrow was none too eager to break the kiss either. He turned his head after a minute and breathe, pistoning his hips against the rough material that had once been skin. Underneath the burlap flesh, though, he felt that hardness he was so eager to feel buried inside him.

"Hell yeah," he moaned when the Scarecrow bucked against him, the stray straw teasing his hole. Scarecrow groaned out, pulling Jonathon upwards.

"Ride me then," he moaned, black eyes glazed as he watched Jonathon guide himself down on his cock. Deciding this was going too slow, he left it up to gravity and impaled himself on the pulsing dick beneath him, earning a howl of joy from his partner.

"Fuck....ya n-never loosen up any......" Scarecrow noted, waiting for their brains to turn back on so they could get started.

Crane was completely lost in ecstasy. The rough burlap and stabby straw inside him had his nerves on fire in a horribly erotic mix of pleasure and pain. A nudge to his prostate made him respond instinctively by pushing back down, clamping around the cock inside him.

Crane hissed as he raised himself off of painful straw, pulling all the way out before slamming himself back down on his twin's lap. He started out slowly at first and began to pick up speed, using deep long strokes to fuck himself on Scarecrow's cock. He gripped the man's burlap shoulders for more leverage as he hit his own prostate over and over, Scarecrow's name searing hot on his lips with each connection.

Each time Crane impaled himself on him, Scarecrow was reeling at the way the walls clamped hard around his pulsing cock, almost suffocating him to the point of dizzy-headed pain. The blood slicking his passage flowed freely now, getting all over the two men. It was the hottest thing the Master of Delusions had ever experienced and he wanted more of it. Jonathan looked positively_ delicious_ riding his cock with an unprecedented grace Scarecrow found delectable, taking him all the way inside with long hard dips that made his head fog over with lust.

Jonathon's eyes were an ice blue, now grey since they were glazed over from their passionate fucking. They both knew Crane would get no _compassion_ from him, but they were just fine with_ passion_.

Cause it was sexy.

The sounds he was making were freaking delectable, which only fired their blood more. If he had it his way, Jonathan Crane would ride his cock for eternity and be satisfied with it whether he wanted to or not.

Jonathon was his whore, yeah definitely, but that didn't mean he'd always be willing to play. But he'd have to settle for the rare play-dates they had, and he was cool with it as long as he got to fuck his Jonathon into oblivion.

"Nnnh... ahh..." Jonathon moaned low in his throat as his ass was breached wide with his own creation's heavy length, "...shit...so close....taste it" His broken phrases of lust poured out from his swollen lips. He continued to move up and down, harder and harder, his balls slapping against Scarecrow's straw and hay stomach with each stroke, red scratches painting themselves across the skin. He pulled Crane down roughly, digging the straw into the tense flesh, loving the groan he got when he drew blood.

Too lost in his lust to think, he grabbed a firm hold on his Jonathon's hips and flipped the man on to his back on the bed. He followed Jonathon down so he wouldn't lose contact with the hot tight ass he was buried balls deep in, licking the shell of Jonathon's ear as he mewled like a newborn kitten. He hissed shakily as he pulled his hips all the way back until the tip of his cock was the only thing inside that quivering heat.

He snapped his hips forward, violently pushing all the way back in. He hit Jonathan's prostate dead on as his own body felt his body convulse in pleasure as a choked groan slipped past his slightly parted lips.

_These play dates are__definitely____worth the wait.......shit....._

"FUCK YES!!!!!" the sexed-up doctor wailed as his prostate was pounded into viciously. He gripped his persona's back, digging his uneven, somewhat jagged fingernails into said persona's shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood, making him shudder as he felt black tar spilled down his burlap and straw back, burning his fingers. Pleasure so intense that it almost hurt spiraled through both of the men's body, making them pant out in frayed breaths.

"FuUUCK... hit that spo-YEAH juSST like THAT-OH MY GOD..." Jonathon moaned, particularly hard thrusts making his speech broken and pointed. He spread his long, pale, thin legs farther for his alter ego allowing him free reign of his body. His own hips rolled against Scarecrow's meeting his violent thrusts with his own. His body began to shake and tremble from the intensity of the pleasure that was storming through him.

Crane's hole was really raw now, muscle tearing even more as Scarecrow continued his merciless, straw-filled pounding into the destroyed body.

Neither seemed to want it to end though. And Jonathan wasn't certainly complaining. His eyes slid closed as the desire started to spin out of control and pool in the pit of his stomach. He felt his balls tense and knew he was getting close to his orgasm but fought it down.

"See why you should let me out more often?"Scarecrow growled against the man's dark locks as he reached one of his hands down wrapping it around his partner's leaking length. " Jonathon..." The last part came out as a sensual purr that set Jonathon's bleeding skin on fire.

"Nnn... hhha......I." He was completely drenched in sweat and blood now. Their bodies sliding slippery and wet together as the room filled with wet erotic squelching sounds each time Scarecrow's cock pushed into the slick heat of Jonathan's throbbing hole. Straw was everywhere, sticking to Jonathon's wet body, and the amount of blood was growing, pooling on the sheets.

The Crow moaned at the broken language falling from that bruised and bleeding pink mouth. He tilted his head to the side and took those tempting lips into a hot open mouth kiss. Their tongues met and pushed against each other, wet and hot with Jonathon's blood and Scarecrow's tar-like saliva, scorching everything it touched. His head started to spin. His orgasm slammed into his body hard and he was thrown into a downward spiral of release. His cock pulsed hard several times as his seed, hot, black tar, was poured deep into the confines of Jonathon's ass.

"Jesus, you are so fucking hot." he panted out, moaning as Jonathon milked him for everything he was worth, moaning when his bloodied, tarred rear swallowed the rest of Scarecrow's essence. He threw his head back in a silent scream as he came, dainty toes curling as hot white spurts of cream lava spurt forward and landing squarely in the middle of Scarecrow's chest. They collapsed together, trying to remember how to breathe. They removed the mask, chucking it in some unknown direction. Scarecrow sat up, observing his handiwork.

Deep gouges and angry red welts were all over his previously unscathed alabaster body. Blood was currently caked around his rear, thighs, and legs. There were pools of it all over the bed, some old and others new. John's gaping mouth was bright red, the gums tattered and the tongue swollen.

"Johnny, you're so sexy. Even when you've been mutilated," Jonathon turned over on his back, eyeing the animalistic bite wounds on Scarecrow's flaccid rod. Scarecrow caught him staring and smacked his arm,"Slut."

"Only for you," they smiled at this, really too tired to do much else. Scarecrow had something else in mind though- a question.

"So who's she gonna meet when or if she comes back?" Jonathan looked at him lazily, not really caring anymore.

"I want to sleep, so you can take over for a while I guess." Scarecrow squealed, mind immediately flashing to the horrible things he'd do to the shrink, feeling himself getting aroused.

"So do you want me to bring back the body so we can fuck it?"

* * *

**WOOO DONE at last! Took me a whole week to write that. But that's cause I kept reediting it...oh well. REVIEW & RATE please and spanx a lot: 3**

**1-In the movie when you got sprayed with the toxin, everyone spewed black tar from their mouth, so I just rolled with it**


	5. Charming

Now fully healed, save for a black eye and some scrapes, Alicia was ready to jump back on the saddle. The police managed to keep the attack underground, since she had a job that could put her in jeopardy socially. She never heard from Batman again after that first night, but it didn't bother her. After they'd broken up 2 years ago, their relationship had been a little strained. Life was like that when you dated the playboy millionaire who dressed in Kevlar to go save a dying city nightly. She still cared for him though. Bruce was very much like her brother. When he was banged up, Alfred called and they came to her house.

She'd spent part of her life in med school, so she came to know the basics before going into psychology. Stitches, staples, amateur blood transfusions, gunshot wounds- you name it, she took care of it. She lived a pretty full life- a psychologist by day, photographer all day every day and doctor on any random night.

"You ready?" a man said, waking her from her thoughts. Today she was no longer dressed in grey hospital robes, but a white shirt with the Marvel Superheroes on it and jeans. In her door was an older, handsome man with brown hair and a mustache. A badge hung on his trench coat.

"Yea, I'm ready to leave. Will you be escorting me Mr....?" He offered her his hand, shaking it and letting it go. Hs crinkly smile showed he was a kind man.

"My name is Lieutenant Gordon of the Major Crimes Department and yes, I and several others of my men will be escorting you around town." Alicia's face fell at that.

"Everywhere?" Gotham's Underground Exhibit was Saturday, and she could tell she'd be tailed for at least a month.

"We understand you have an entirely different life going on outside of your job at Arkham. We'll follow you everywhere, but we will give you space. I promise, we're known for the ability to blend in." he smiled again, opening the door leading out of her room. She grabbed the duffle bag Bruce had brought that first night and stood up. Lieutenant Gordon put a finger in the air.

"Oh, one more thing Ms. Kneeley," he searched in his pockets and pulled out an extra large freezer bag. Inside were a couple of joints, a tin box chock full of Cuban cigars, paper, a lighter, and some sweet, stinky weed, "The nurse. Granger I think her name was. I understand she's a friend. I caught her slipping this bag under your door. Now, I know the director of Arkham wouldn't be caught with not one, but two illegal types of illegal contraband?" Alicia paled considerably, opening and closer her mouth like a fish. She'd be leaving the hospital only to be arrested? Bullshit.

"Uh w-well I...I don't- um....can I just have a toke to before you arrest me?" she finally sputtered, deciding if she was gonna go to the federal pin, she'd be doing it stoned.

"My current assignment is to watch you, not arrest you. If you catch my drift." he handed her the bag with a wink. She grabbed a handful of the green stuff and some of the paper Nurse Granger had left in the bag.

"Betty always rolls 'em too thin. I'm the one who taught her roll the shit, but hey- to each his own," she explained before rolling a fat joint and lighting it. She stuffed her goods in the black duffle bag and stood up again, doobie hanging out the corner of her mouth.

"Escort me Cap'n,"she said, smiling as the familiar buzz flowed to her brain with a long drag, smoke flaring out her nostrils. Gordon took her arm and led her to the elevator, where they met with five guards clothed in SWAT garb. They made their way down to the main lobby, where she was discharged and they walked out. At the front door, they met 10 more guards as they were guided towards three unmarked black vans. The doobie was given another fierce drag before being chucked inconspicuously into the bushes outside.

"Damn, he really meant protective detail..." a female guard turned and laughed.

"The boss & Batman both agreed you'd need some lookin' after. The Joker don't let nobody he beats up like that walk around afterwards, so chances are he'll be comin' back for round 2, yeah?" Alicia smiled at that, bumping into Gordon, who'd stopped dead in his tracks.

"Before we get in the car, two things: One," he gave her a SWAT uniform, "you wear this whenever we're going to and from the car or are out in the open. Once we are safely inside wherever we may be going, you can change as you see fit. Two, where would you like to go first?" She put a finger to her lip, trying to decide whether to go home or over Roger's house. Her home phone had probably exploded from him leaving messages on it. As far as she knew, she the police and Batman were the only ones that knew about this whole incident.

Besides the Joker.

But she put off the eminent 'when-you-promise-to-call-me-twice-a-day-you-keep-up-that-deal-blah-blah-bladdy-blah-blah' lecture she'd get.

"I'd like to go to work. I don't like the idea of substitutes handling my patients. Besides, I have a feeling my star patient has some shit in store for me when I get there."

* * *

"Hah...yeah...just like..........damn," Scarecrow moaned, fisting his pale hands in Jonathan's hair as his head bobbed furiously, Crane sucking his cock like a child to his mother's milk. He looked down and saw bloody gouges all over the stiff rod where Crane had bitten him. He watched as Crane's head moved something furious, cheeks hollowing with each hungry suck. He ran his hand down Crane's back, massaging each cheek in appreciation.

"Shit..." After that first session (to Scarecrow, John was in serious need of sex therapy), Jonathan warmed considerably to the idea of letting Scarecrow out during his incarceration. They'd decided to take it easy though, since John was shitting and throwing blood and tar up all night after that firs mind-blowing romp. Scarecrow promised to wait for Crane to heal so they could begin their sex frenzy yet again. But that was only _4_ days ago, and John broke his promise to wait a couple more weeks for sex before initiating it. And here he was now, mouth vacuum-sealed around his alter ego's dick.

Scarecrow didn't mind though. He let an incoherent string of obscenities fall from his mouth when he started to feel his orgasm being pulled out of the pit of his stomach with each suck. He decided not to roll Johnny over and screw him right then, since they can't have straw scraping John's muscles till they tore again. Jonathan had worried at first about guards exposing them, but he forgot that even if someone walked in, it would look as if he'd been asleep the whole time.

Scarecrow was in his head, he wasn't a flesh and bone kinda guy. I mean, just imagine what hellish and slightly hilarious shit would happen if a homophobic guard walked in on two of the same guy screwing like rabbits.

"So fucking close....hah ahh hell yes.." just before his orgasm started, two burly guards trudged in.

"Hey Crane!" Said man woke up, new mind to control the body. He yelped and jumped up, a scorching pain setting his lower body on fire.

_Shit...._Crane, or at least it looked like Crane, recovered from his realization that anal sex _hurt_, and began smiling as the guards hauled him up and carried him out the room. When the pale man looked back, he smiled at Crane who was waving furiously as he watched his darker side walk into the elevator.

"The poor bastard doesn't know what he's in for," Jonathan said as the elevator doors closed, waiting eagerly for Scarecrow to return with a bruised ego. And the brutal fuck that was bound to come with it....

* * *

"So, what activities are we doing today gentleman?" he asked, genuinely happy as he was walked through hall after blank, white hall.

_You at least have to act like me, you ass_

_Get the dick outta your ass and lemme run this. Besides, you're considered 'criminally insane', remember? They won't bitch about it if you have mood swings every once in a while._ John was silent. He did have a point after all. But Crow was bored with this argument. Before Crane could say anything else, Crow shut him out, locked him in that room until he wanted to talk to him again.

Or mind-fuck him.

Or both.

His mind dribbled to other things.

Like this famed shrink. From what bits he'd extracted from Crane, this Doctor was pretty and blonde. Nothin special.

Then again, Crane's chick radar was a bit off kilter. After all, he did get topped by his male alter ego. He smiled at the thought, letting the guards throw him into random walls along the way.

The trio stopped in front of the showers, and Crow stopped to look at both men curiously. The overly fake-tanned one spoke first.

"You have an appointment with Dr. Kneeley today. Need ya to look and smell like you've been on vacation at the Bahamas for the past couple months." He explained, and Scarecrow noticed how he said 'Dr. Kneeley', his voice dropping to a dark purr before going back to that irritating drone.

_Maybe she really is all that and a cup of Joe....._ He thought this all the while, imagining her as he was showered and shaved.

* * *

Scarecrow walked into the room, slightly disturbed.

_What the fuck was with all the purple?! Did Johnny's office look like this while he was still runnin the place?! Oh, my JESUS that's a lot of goddamn purple! And what the hell is with the birdcage?!_

He picked a white chair to sit in, now uncomfortable in the intimidating presence of obvious femininity.

Yeah, there was definitely a woman who worked in here.

"What the fuck?" he mumbled, looking around the room, then walking over to the Jaymar piano next to the window.

He sat down and started playing random note, smiling with genuine joy as he made useless noise on the tiny white piano.

"You know it's more for decoration than actual playing correct?" a voice said from across the room. Crow almost jumped out of his skin, startled to death. He turned to mouth the bitch off for nearly giving him a goddamn heart attack, but when he saw said bitch, his jaw dropped.

_Oh my fucking GAWD._

Well for one thing: she was fuckin gorgeous. Blonde hair the color of the very sun, all gold and sparkling. Her eyes were the color of chocolate and caramel melted so they swirled together; utterly, amazingly brown with flecks of hazel & topaz. His eyes wandered down her slender neck, dainty shoulder, and.....

_HOLY FUCK! Check out__ **those** __ta-tas! I'm jealous of any kid she gets pregnant with.._

Moving down her almost non-existence waist, those wide hips, all the way down to her gazillion-mile long legs.

She was dressed in a low-cut black sweater dress that emphasized every single curve on that hot body, pinstripe see-through leggings, and spike heels that had to add at least 6 inches to her frame.

His mind immediately opened to let Jonathan in.

_What the FUCK? I thought she was__ **just** __'pretty & blonde'! For fuck's sake, she looks like a goddamn carbon copy of Jayne Mansfield*. Look at her rack Johnny!_

**_I don't see what's so great about them._**

_What the fuck, are you retarded? Are you GAY Johnny? Wait, wait, and don't answer either of those. Rhetorical questions._

**_Hey, I've never had a thing for blondes! And what do you mean those are both rhetorical questions?_**

"Dr. Crane, are you alright?" she asked, and Crow also noticed how smooth her voice was, like dark chocolate. Yea, she was getting a thrashing.

A hard, long, sweaty thrashing. He didn't even want to kill her afterwards now.

And after he was done with nailing her on every flat surface in this office, he'd smack Johnny around for being such a dumbass when it came to his taste in women. Dumb bastard.

But he needed to charm her first. And when The Master of Delusions put his mind to it, he could be _extremely_ charming.

* * *

***- in fact, it is Jayne Mansfield! That is one sexy woman....**

**I've been workin on this chap forever and I still don't like it. Eh, I'll re-do it later. Oh, and if you didn't know, a _thrashing_ is a fuck.**


	6. Keepin on Your Toes

**Weee I feel so loved! Thanks for the reviews everybody! Everyone has been wonderin about this chap for a while, but here it is! Keep up the niceness and you shall be rewarded!**

_Blah blah blah_- notes during sessions

* * *

"Yo Crane, you alive in there?" she asked, dropping the concerned doctor charade when she saw the new sparkle in Crane's eyes. His eyes were very much his, but the color was all wrong.

They were black. An empty, dull shade of black.

_What the...Jonathon_ sauntered over to the chair he was previously seated in, eyes half-lidded and glued to Alicia is every move. She sat in her seat and took her notepad out, leaving the drawer open.

She might have to grab the pepper spray.

"Oh I'm just fine Doc. Of course... you could always..._examine_ me." She never took her eyes from him, confusion and apprehension visible.

"Uh-huh. So...Dr. Crane, how has it been? I understand you have been locked in your cell since I left. Anything interesting happen?" Alicia watched his face as it remained that blank slate he usually managed to produce.

His eyes gave him away though. As soon as the question was out her mouth, an explosion of joy lightened the black of his eyes to a heather grey.

_Patient seems calm. Cooperative even. Heavy drugs administered in my absence?_

"That is quite the talent you have there Doctor," he said, that same purr rolling in his chest," When I was a shrink here, I had to look away from my patients to write things. I hated when I wrote out the lines. Ya know, OCD and all."

"Uh-huh. Hey, I gotta question for you." she said, settling into her chair and swinging a leg over the other. She noted how he watched that leg intently.

"Anything you want," he replied, voice deepening several octaves.

"Um, did they - 'they' being the guards- give you anything while I was gone? You know, any meds you weren't prescribed?" he looked at her curiously for a split second before bursting into laughter.

Heavy drugs administered. Definitely. Question the guards until question marks fall out their asses.

"Did they give me anything?! Hell, I'm not on anything right now!" he cackled, doubling over in the seat. Alicia stared.

Hadn't she given those useless bastards strict orders to keep him on his goddamn meds?

_What, I gotta remind everyone to wipe their asses too?!_

Frustrated, she jotted a quick note on the paper.

Note to Self: Fire all their asses. Get new guards. She dug around in the open drawer and took out her cigar box. John watched her as she pushed the tip of one in between her lips and lit it.

"You smoke?" he asked, eyes screaming 'I'M UP TO NO GOD DAMN GOOD!!!!'

"Yep. However, we're getting off topic. So, how've ya been?" Then Jonathan did something totally out of character. He winked and got up.

He climbed slowly onto her desk and sat right in front of Alicia, legs open. If she didn't have better control of herself, she would've spat out her cigar and pulled the moonshine she kept in the fridge out of the orange juice container.

"Wanna know how I've been Doctor Kneeley?" he asked quietly, now antsy in his seat. Yea, Alicia had a bad feeling about this.

"I do believe that was the question Jonathan." he looked down at her and smiled.

Moreover, she had to admit, smiling was something he should do more often. However, that freckly smile soon turned predatory.

Something wasn't right.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scarecrow was pleased as to where this was going. If he kept this up, he could definitely get into those sheer pinstripe thigh-highs.

_Underestimating her again..._John warned in his head, his usual 'better-than-thou' attitude back in his voice.

**_Shut up Johnny! I've got this man_** Crow said, brow furrowing. Dr. Kneeley was currently writing like crazy, eyes searching his.

_I'm just saying. I mean,__ **this** __is your plan? Act like a crazed slut and she'll get swept away by your sexual charm?_

**_Sometimes the simplest plans are the most effective ones Johnny. _**Scarecrow was tiring of this. So he laid out the _full_ version of his plan.

_How are you so su- oh, that is quite the plan Crow. I'll leave you to it then. Good Luck._ In a flash, Jonathon left, satisfied that his alter ego wasn't the idiot he sometimes thought he was and curious as to how this would play out.

What he wasn't sick of, however, was the blonde bombshell's piercing gaze.

He didn't care what Johnny said anymore. Scarecrow's plan may be simple, but he didn't need anything overly complicated for this.

It was obvious that this woman was intelligent, but let's face it.

First, she was a _woman_. Second, he was the Master of Delusions. He could twist any situation he saw needed twisting. If she got too wild, he'd easily put this small woman in her place.

_That_, Scarecrow thought as he bit his lip and ran a hand up his chest _was guaranteed._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alicia saw his plan laid out before her now. This wasn't Jonathon Crane she was in a room with.

It was Scarecrow.

She'd definitely have to fire all the guards later.

Don't get me wrong, John was definitely a threat, but that was only because he was good with words and could easily outthink most people in this country.

Scarecrow was a different matter. Whereas Jonathon was just brains, Scarecrow had the brawn to go with it. Though John had a slight, wispy frame, Scarecrow would use it any way he could to win.

He was calculating and violent. By locking him up without the meds needed to keep him away, John had been taken over. Those muscle-clad idiots had put the whole city in danger.

Yet again!

She'd have to tread very carefully. It was probably best just to play along until she felt it was time to act.

It never failed her before.

But she had never dealt with Scarecrow before, so would the usual tactic work for her now?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Truth is Doc, I've been," Alicia watched as his muscle tee had been hiked up to reveal an unsurprisingly softly muscled stomach.

"Uh...Jonathon?"

"So lonely," he continued in what Alicia could've sworn was a _moan_.

He ran a hand over his shirt-, which was now exposing his chest-, was making its way to his nipples, erect and covered in bite marks and bruises.

"Who were you with John?" she whispered, narrowing her eyes to inspect a particularly nasty bruise on his rib cage.

She did not catch the small smile on his lips.

_Showtime..._

He gasped and pulled his shirt down and flew back into his seat.

"Its nothing." he looked away, very aware that the accursed pen had stopped scribbling on the paper.

"It's something Johnny. Spill it," her voice dripped concern, making him smile. He quickly wiped it away.

"I don't want to." he said, scooting his seat away when she slid gracefully onto the desk and sat in front of him.

_The Good Doctor has nice thighs_, he noticed. He jumped, truly surprised when she grabbed his chin and swerved his head to look her in the eye.

"Stop with the bull John. Talk to me. _Who were you with_?" she queried, tone dark enough to emphasize that Gotham/New York accent she usually had.

It must happen when she's serious.

Crow looked away again, trying not to burst into laughter for what he was going to say next.

"The guards." when he whispered it, the hand on his chin drew back in a speed that seemed inhuman. He glanced in her general direction to see Dr. Kneeley had lost her tan.

"The guards? Are you sure?" she whispered, getting off the desk and pacing next to the window.

She took his silence as a yes when she said from the window.

"Tell me everything he or they did. I'll fire every one of those useless bastards."

She again missed the smirk plastered on his lips.

Then again, with her back to him as she looked out the window, he also missed hers.

Scarecrow might be smart, but Alicia planned to come out of this on top.

As they looked off into space, they were both thinking only one thing.

_You're mine now bitch...._

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**Yeah, that's chapter 6 for ya! Rate & Review please! Chapter 7 is soon on its way!**


	7. I Believe You Brucie

**Updating as fast as I can! Keep up the lovin peeps and I'll add. I'm narcissistic, I love your praise!**

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She was **so** glad to be home.

"Goodnight Gordon," Dr. Kneeley said as she put the key in her door, waving at the police officer as he and the 'neighbors' went down into the stairwell.

She opened the familiar green door and inhaled the air that she had missed so much as if it was the last she'd ever smell, the scent of apartment number 863.

However, to be truthful, it was more of a penthouse. Art-décor build, windows the size of a full master bedroom, sleek appliance, 6 extra room, 5.5 baths, a fully railed deck complete with a great view, garden & trees, and a pool, and a heavenly master suite complete with a walk-in closet big enough to be converted to a room itself.

Scandalous photography pays for itself.

Well, that and dating the Prince of Gotham.

However, it was mostly her photography that landed her the suite. She was not the useless bunny she knew she looked like. She didn't need anyone to take care of her.

She could it herself.

As soon as the door closed, she could hear the happy barking of her two Great Danes, Zero & Ghost. Ghost was her boy Dane, strong and the color of snow with chartreuse eyes, and his girlfriend Zero was just as big, fur rippling black with big brown eyes. Originally, she'd got them for protection, but after she met Bruce, they became her babies.

They ate the same food as her, they watched movies with her, hell, and they even slept in the same bed as her.

"Hey boobies," she sighed, massaging the two big babies behind their cropped ears. Zero groaned happily and jumped Alicia, sob dripping into her face. Ghost followed pursuit and they launched a full-blown attack against the tired psychologist.

"Stop it you mangy mutts! You're getting spit in my nose! Gah- hey-no-Wait!" she finally shooed them off and sat up, She walked out of the entryway into the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway when she saw the pizza on the counter. On the box was an unsigned note.

_Figured ya'd want some after eating hospital mush for months on end._

She picked up the note and smiled, glad Roger got her some decent food. She could smell the Meat Deluxe Pizza before she even opened the box of Johnny's Authentic New York Style Pizza.

"Good shit old man, good shit," she mumbled, taking the two biggest pieces and putting them on a paper plate. She walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

Leaving for the media room, she didn't notice the purple trench coat tossed onto the closet floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That was 3 weeks ago, but Alicia began to wonder if she was the only one in her house. It was just little things that tipped her off, though.

For instance, she'd wake up in the morning on the way to work and see a bowl on her table, apparently having been used not too long ago.

Or when she went into her dark room, she'd find the pictures of herself with little smiley faces in the corner.

The first possible suspect she'd thought of had been Bruce.

Then again, he was her only suspect. So, she just noted to tell him to clean up after himself when he came over whenever they crossed paths again.

What had really stayed on her mind, however, were Scarecrow's words.

She knew he was up to no good, and that he was lying so as to manipulate her, but it was the description of him & the guards. As he detailed everything that he said had happened in Alicia's absence, Dr. Kneeley felt bile rise up against her throat.

He was great liar, she'd give him that. Some of the stuff he said made her wonder just what went on while she was M.I.A.

But today was her day off, so she planned to relax and unwind.

At least until she had to go to her shoot later that afternoon. Then she'd have to high tail it back home to get ready for the pool party she was throwing to get back into the full swing of social life as a Gotham Elite.

But how was she gonna explain five men tailing her around? She couldn't necessarily, complain though. Previously, she'd been living around 20-armed police officers. But since Mr. J had failed to show up, they all were slowly returning to normal. The cop to psychiatrist ratio began to shrink, so now it was just her, Lieutenant Gordon and four of his men.

She settled into her hammock and inhaled on her cigar. Today was a beautiful day in Gotham City, which was a rare occurrence in itself. Instead of the drab blanket of ash grey, the sky was a cerulean blue, white clouds blotting out the sky in patches. A warm breeze was blowing constantly, rustling the leaves of the small trees on her rooftop that were currently shading her from the sunlight she'd hadn't seen in a good while.

In the background, she heard the music from her in-house sound system sweeping through the rooms.

_I'm gon' suture up my future,  
I ain't jaded, I just hate , I been down too long,  
It's kinda hard to explain.  
Done and buried all I carried.  
All my evil is through a needle,  
as it pulls through the eye,  
what was and what will are now gone_

Zero and Ghost were napping on the garden part of the roof, lying belly-up beside citrus-colored flowers. Alicia watched them, blowing smoke rings into the sky as the bubbling guitars of Queens of the Stone Age poured out.

_Don't sweat it;  
Thread it, to forget it.  
To feel like you've already gone on,  
to the rest of,  
the rest of the life that you've got.  
Take a picture and bury it all away,  
Bury it all,  
Away._

"Days like this should come around more often. Maybe we wouldn't be afraid of some sadistic murderous clown if the sun was out to keep him away," she mumbled, the Joker's face flashing across her eyes. She wasn't a sap who couldn't handle her own shit, but the Joker was a whole different breed of monster entirely.

_And light always chases the monsters out_, she thought, putting out her cigar and just staring off into the sky as clouds lazed across.

_Tried to fake it, I just can't take it.  
I don't care if it hurts,  
just so long as it's real.  
I won't waste it, turned to face it;  
I'd sharpened a knife, then used it,  
until bone made it dull.  
Tried explaining, done explaining,  
I got caught in the plaid,  
all of this talking at once.  
I've been giving my love away,  
To the things that tear it apart,  
I'm gonna suture up my future._

As Alicia felt her eyelids droop, she could've sworn she heard someone singing alongside Josh Hommes.

In a nasally voice that seemed vaguely familiar to her as they finally closed.

_Thread it, to forget it,  
To feel like you've already gone on,  
To the rest of,  
The rest of the life that you've got,  
Tie the loose ends and bury it all away,  
It's like this, its like this..._

--------

"How the hell are you standing comfortably in those torture devices?" Roger asked, putting the camera down to stare at his model.

Alicia, who was currently in nothing but sheer black thigh highs and electric blue 6-inch heels, looked over her shoulder and laughed.

After what seemed to be a good half hour of 'where the hell were you?! I was worried sick!' and 'If you're gonna run off, at least tell me Alicia! Shit, grow up!', Roger allowed the shoot to start.

Her 'entourage' was currently posted up against the far wall, blushing as she paraded around naked from the waist up and posed in various poses with a sultry purr in her throat.

Gordon was the most bashful, twiddling his thumbs and coughing whenever she got remotely close to him and his men.

But it wasn't just her body they were trying to avoid: To be specific, it was the scar.

It was fine, just a slightly raised welt on her back in the shape of a 'J'. It sat right in the middle of the sparrows on each of her shoulder blades. You'd think she'd be shamed; sick of what it represented, but it was quite the contrary.

She loved it. It made quite the picture. This is why she was going to show it off as much as possible.

"Hey, Alicia, Bruce is here to see us!" Roger said, dropping the camera into one of the cop's hands and skipping over to the door.

Another cop, the youngest, walked over with a robe in his hand.

"H-Here you g-go ma'am," he murmured, face beet red as he slid the robe over her shoulders. She gave him a small smile, which grew into a smirk when he gasped and scooted away like an embarrassed schoolgirl who just got caught staring by her crush. She closed it and walked over to Roger, who was currently bouncing up and down.

Bruce was always a sex-god in the eyes of Roger. So when he graced the flaming older man with his otherworldly 'sexual presence', Roger was always delighted.

"Alicia," said the booming voice that was accompanied by the dark hair, handsome face, and green eyes murmured. He had his 'playboy' face on. But it actually reached his eyes.

He was in a good mood today.

"Bruce, nice to see you. Hey, you don't mind if we finish this shoot do you?" she said, shameless as she turned and walked away, dropping the robe.

".....of course I don't," she heard him say, chuckling as he bent over to pick the robe up and threw it over his arm.

* * *

"So I hear your party is going to be quite the bash," Bruce said, holding up the heels she'd had been wearing previously as they sat outside on the veranda.

"You heard correctly then Brucie. I haven't been to a decent party in ages. I'm sick of all the black tie affairs." she said, smoothing her shirt down.

"Uh-huh. So how are you faring with the cops and everything?" he inquired, voice serious now.

"Good. They don't constantly butt in everything like you see on TV, they actually blend. Ya know, let you live a little." His eyes grew distant momentarily before they were their usual shade of grass green.

"Alicia, about that night at the hospital. I'm so so sorry. I-"

"Bruce," she said, putting her hand in his, "It's cool. I was unfair anyway. You don't need to apologize to me for my being an asshole." she said, smiling as his shoulders relaxed.

"It's just, he said, looking out at the city, "I was just so caught up in saving the city, I forgot about trying to save what was most important. When you said that, I didn't want to admit that you were right. I won't make that same mistake twice Alicia." he sighed, tightening his grip on her hand and pulling her into his lap.

"I understand."

"No, you don't. I'm sorry I wasn't around enough. I wanted this- us -to work, and I screwed it up. I want us to go back to being together. I miss that. I miss having someone in my bed I can have a conversation with."

Alicia's heart was hurting as he said that, but she remained silent.

"I miss you walking around in my shirts just so you didn't have to put on pants. I miss touching, holding, being with you. Dammit, I don't even know how to put it into words. But you do believe me right?"

"I believe you Bruce, I believe you," she sighed.

"Liar. I'm going to have to show you." Sure enough, Alicia's sad sighs turning into happy pants when Bruce's' hands delved into more interesting territory.


	8. Maybe I really WAS a good boy!

**I'M BACK!!!!**

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Tonight was Doll Face's summer shindig.

And the Joker wasn't on the guest list.

But that was a good thing. For if the little Barbie Doll had actually cared to make a list, the Crown Prince would've had to go back to the drawing board he'd made on the wall of Barbie's attic. And that wouldn't have been any fun at all.

So when Barbie's round ass swished and swayed out the door, Joker brought his maniacal skinny one from upstairs and set his plan into immediate action.

As a direct result, the bathroom was currently littered with various things - **_very very_** temporary blonde hair dye, a razor, shaving cream, teeth whitening strips, baking soda, toothpaste, and Covergirl Trublend Liquid Makeup. The make-up was the thing he liked least, since it obstructed his access to his scars and wasn't anywhere near as dramatic as his usual mask, but it was so very necessary if he wanted to pull this thing off.

But that didn't mean he had to like he lengths to which he had to go to do so.

Besides, the hair dye was next on his shit list. Green was much more striking a color than boring old 'strawberry blonde'.

"What gay ass name. The fuck kinda guy wants to walk up to you and say 'I have strawberry blonde hair!'? Gay. I would've gotten 'Dirty Blonde' if that didn't sound quite so homo either," he grumbled to Ghost as the dog watched Joker as he combed his now Strawberry blonde waves," why the fuck do the blondes have gay ass hair colors? Why can't they just have black or brown or red like everyone else? I love bein unique and all that good shit, but there's a fine line between 'unique & badass' and 'gay & trying to keep it secret'."

It was a simple plan really; woo Barbie with his eclectic charm, get into that pretty little blonde head, and turn her thoughts inside out and show her what she really was.

He glanced in the mirror and licked at his scars unconsciously. He hated it, the ghost that was looking at him in the mirror. Ghosts were meant for the afterlife, but here was one now boldly staring him in his face. He looked like his old, boring self. Instead of his usual green hair, it was a clean, blonde color that reminded him far too much of wheat. His eyes had turned back to a melted chocolate brown without his eyeliner. And his face....his face...it wasn't even his anymore. But in the dark, silent place in his brain where is past memories hid, something tugged at him. Something tugged at his brain strings, but he didn't know what it was that was tugging, or why. So he tried not to dwell on it.

Not wanting to think about the past, he instead looked down at Ghost, who had busied himself with sniffing his ankle. He grinned and petted him.

"Don't recognize me either do you Inky*?" he asked, and walked out into Barbie's master bedroom.

"Oops, I've, uh, made quite the mess. Don't want Barbie Girl knowing that Ken's here just yet." slipping on a pair of basketball shorts he found in her closet, he went back to his earlier task of rifling through her things. Everything in her home was tasteful. When he found out she was a shrink (all of this came to light with a couple clicks on her handy-dandy Macbook of course) he expected her home to be gaudy and overly extravagant much like the homes of other prestigious folks he broke into for all sorts of shits and giggles.

Her closet was a stylish 50's throwback that was punctuated with Ferragamo, Givenchy, Versace, other high-end shoe brands that cost a leg and arm for along with cute little thrift shop accessories. He pocketed this little rhinestone-hat hair clip and a little Alice in Wonderland ring. He might need those should he do something that required cross-dressing.

He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

It seemed the only way to get into high-security places nowadays was to walk around in a pair of bitchin' heels and a skirt.

Not to mention Barbie's iTunes collection was just fuckin peachy. None of that shit that got stuck in your head from being overplayed on the radio. She had everything : The Unicorns, Amy Winehouse, Janis Joplin, miles Davis, John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Alice Smith, The Last Shadow Puppets, Kings of Leon, Bats for Lashes, Cat Power, The Mars Volta, Midnight Movies, Queens of the Stone age, Alice in Chains, Jefferson Airplane, even stuff by Mozart, Bach, Handel, and Tartini.

She had a few poppy moments like Lady GaGa and Kelly Osbourne, but it was mostly indie, psychedelic, progressive, and metal. Still, the Clown Prince was surprised to see Slipknot, Human Abstract, Bring Me the Horizon, and Whitechapel all at once. She was definitely getting some ABKAALD points, or 'Avoid Being Killed At A Later Date points'. Mind you, the Joker'd probably end u killing her anyway, but it'd be boring when he did if she wasn't screaming he'd given ABKAALD points and to please not hurt her. ABKAALD points made everything better.

Joker had something else to terrorize the poor bastards with, and the poor bastards were terrified when they started out.

Total Win-Win situation.

The more he uncovered in her room, the more ABKAALD points she got. So far, she was doing pretty good at Avoiding-Being-Killed-At-A-Later-Date.

So when he pulled a big glossy hot pink box from under the box, he curiosity forced him to give her more ABKAALD points.

"Oooooooh Santa brought my presents early! Gee, I don't even remember being such a good boy. Oh hell, presents are present!"

When he opened the box and removed the black glitter paper, he almost _died_.

"Sweet Jesus! Sweet Mary, Mother, and Joseph. **Holy motherfucking Christ on a goddamn Cross**! **_OH MY FUCKING GOD!_ _OOOOOHHHHHH MYYYYYYYY GAWWWWWWWWDDDDD!_**_"_

Not from shock, but from complete and absolute _joy._

"Maybe I really _was_ a good by this year!"

The glossy box as filled to the brim with enough sex toys to kill a small country.

And they weren't your run of the mill dildos and whatnot.

They were like quadrillion-inch black monsters that glittered in the light with such a aura of fear it was unnatural even for the Joker.

And there were nipple clamps.

And whips.

And handcuffs.

And cock rings.

And plugs.

As he rifled through the Toy Box like a shy kid on Christmas, he did it with a spring in his step and a winning smile.

But he could only think one thing as he pulled out what looked disturbingly like a cattle prong:

Oh yes, they were _sooooooo_ going to get along.

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**K, I'm back to updating! I've been overseas so that's why you haven't been seeing anything from me! Just know that I have several chapters for each of my stories in the works!!**

***Inky- the blue pac man ghost. Ghost's eys are blue, so you can kinda see the connection**

**Toodle Loves :3**


	9. Dabbling

**Roger is so entertaining to me lol XD. Enjoy this chapter!**

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Trying to recollect her thoughts as Bruce threw her shirt off the balcony carelessly; Alicia found her face through a lusty daze.

"Bruce," he managed to pull his mouth off her collarbone long enough to grunt and return to the task at hand. Deciding to just go with the flow, Alicia tipped Bruce back and came to straddle his waist as she loosened his tie and opened his shirt hastily.

She laid one smoldering kiss on his skin, after the other, sliding down until the shirt was gone and the flap of his pants was undone.

And right on cue, her Iphone rang.

And rang.

Moaning displeasure, Bruce lazily picked up the phone and handed it to her.

"I believe it's for you babe."

"They better have a good reason for this," she grumbled, unlocking the keys and pressing answer, "Yes?" A female voice answered enthusiastically.

"Hello Ali, this is Ant. I am calling to alert you the decor for your party is complete. Where the hell are you?!" Interested, Alicia sat up.

"Oh it's you Ant. It's finally finished? Thank god, the party's in- HOLY SHIT it's in an hour and a half!" Alicia sprang from the couch and single-handedly zipped her pants back up and found the robe she'd previously been wearing.

"Get your ass down here!" and as the line clicked, the door leading outside did too.

"Catch you on the flip side Bruce!" and just like that, a very disappointed Bruce was left alone.

"Yeah, I'll see you around." Just then, Roger made himself known.

"You know, if you need help getting rid of your good friend Frankie, I'm always willing to help a friend."

"Frankie? What-oh. OH!" Frankie was the name he used for the little friend downstairs that was making his presence well known.

_How had he known that? Did Alicia tell him?_

"Uh, um no than-"

"Nonsense!" Bruce looked up to see the old man crawling toward him on the couch seductively (or at least that looked like what Roger was trying to do) so he instinctively backed away.

And effectively trapped himself in the corner in an intriguing display of fail.

Roger smiled like a pedophile that just got a teaching job at a Catholic school."Bruce Bruce Brue, relax," he reached to press an extremely sensitive spot behind Bruce's ear. As he did so, he leaned in for a kiss, and Bruce's eyes widened.

_OH MY GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

With some of that famous Batman agility, he rolled off the couch, face stained wine red.

"Good evening to you sir!" he said and turned on his heels and power walked to the door, running when he heard Roger calling for him.

As he sped down the stairs, huffing, he tried to shake the disturbing event from his mind.

Bruce could deal with many things.

Crazed villains, bombs, devices of torture, nuclear weapons, even shallow emotions.

Randy gay molesters that were old enough to be his grandfather were _not_ one of those aforementioned things.

But Roger sure had gotten rid of Frankie for him.

Hell, Frankie was so afraid; he wouldn't be paying anyone a visit for the next couple of days.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After grabbing her party outfit and getting her hair and makeup done, Alicia sped like a maniac down to her place.

As she walked in, Antonia (aka Ant), was directing people around fixing little things here and there.

Ant was Alicia's party planner and best friend. She was of Russian origin, with had dark red hair, green eyes, slim frame, and freckles, which frequently got her mistaken for Irish until she began to speak. No Irishmen could have such a thick Russian accent.

They met once when Alicia was still in college and had first started her journey into photography. Antonia had organized the gala at which her first works were being displayed.

Needless to say, they hit it off.

"Oh my god Ali! You look divine!" her redhead companion cooed happily, as she got an eyeful of Alicia. She wasn't in the outfit she'd be wearing, but her hair was bone straight with the classic Cleopatra bangs cut so they touched her frilly lashes. Her eyelids were dusted with varying shades of gold and auburn, and her lips were a frosty pink.

"Thanks Ant! Oh, my god look at this place! It looks like a night club!"

The warm home had been transformed into a dark and shimmery nightclub.

The lights were dimmed considerably, huge crystals that were hung from the ceiling reflecting the dim light all over the floor. Black tinted 2-way mirrors had been put on the walls, and spaces were cut out to fit the ridiculously large black and white blow-ups of some of her most well known photos. There were crushed crystals littered the black marble floor.

Black and silver glitter fell from the ceiling like ashen snow. The kitchen had been transformed into a neon bar, drinks and food displayed artfully. The pool normally clear pool water on the veranda had black dye in it, and the powdery, crushed crystals continued onto the ground.

But the poles in the middle of the main room were the best. Reaching from the high ceiling all the way down to the floor, it was what was sure to make her party a hit.

"I was certain everyone would all be wasted before the night was done, so I built this. It will keep your guests from wandering through your house like lost children. There are several more littered on the first level of your house," Noticing her blonde friend was still looking about the room with only 30 minutes before guests were scheduled to arrive, Antonia spoke up.

"Hey! Why is it that you are not in your party outfit? And your toes?! Paint them black! Where are the shoes you are wearing with that dress? An-"

"I'm goin! Shit Ant, who are you? My mom?" satisfied to see the blonde leaving, Ant followed to get ready as well.

In the hall, she noticed the dogs. Zero trotted over firts, wail wagging fiercely, and Ghost followed suit.

"Hello doggies! Have you missed your old Auntie An-what's this?" she paused, noticing the little painting on each dog.

The paint was on the opposite side of each dog, in opposite colors; black and white.

It was a smiley face. Nothing too flashy, just a circle with dot eyes and a wide grin.

"Hmmm, this is a nice touch. whoever did this is getting a raise," patting the dogs a last time, Ant ran down the hall to get ready.

She didn't notice the pair of glittering brown eyes that had watched her from the bathroom.

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**That concludes Chapter 9! Enjoy, Rate & Review!**


	10. Let the Games Begin!

**Here you go! I've had this chapter sitting in my Doc Man for a while now, complete. But I've been knit picking it for the longest time, and I STILL don't like it.**

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It was time to get ready for Barbie's party.

And by God, did the Joker look spiffy.

After a quick visit to the Givenchy store (you could hear all about it on the news: JOKER ATTACKS HIGH END BOUTIQUE! Not his greatest act, but hey), and a quick reapplication of his disguise, the Joker looked liked a million smackeroonies! He was currently dressed in a spiffy grey metallic suit and a black dress shirt that was strategically left unbuttoned a bit so the ladies could see his alluring 'chest pubes'. He had a black pair of shiny loafers with no socks and an extremely fantastic Patek Phillipe wristwatch.

The dogs watched him as he primped in front of the mirror, admiring how when he took his jacket off the muscles he hid under his black dress shirt tensed and bunched.

"And now for the piece de resistance," he said, clearing his throat and taking in a breath of air.

"Hey, I'm Jack." he said, his voice lowering about 8 octaves to a deep purr.

Oh yeah, he was definitely a lady-killer. He repeated this several times as he brazenly walked past Barbie's bedroom door and back, down the hall and down the stairs.

People had begun pouring in, so he went unnoticed.

Well, not really.

The cliques of young heiresses had started a fan club (all in the span of about 3 seconds) and had begun following him around like a litter of lost puppies.

A litter of hot, scantily clad, long-legged puppies.

Puppies that now seemed to be in heat.

He smiled impishly their way, newly whitened teeth threatening to put the setting sun to shame. A couple of them shivered right out of their lacey stockings while others turned to a puddle of want.

"Oh yeah, I should do this more often..." he chuckled, turning and walking out towards the pool.

----

"Hey Alicia, are you done? I can hear a crowd downstairs! Hurry the hell up."

"Hold your horses, here I come," Alicia huffed, slipping on her shoes and heading out into her bedroom," so Ant, how do I look?" Antonia gasped dramatically and held her hands up to her face.

"OH MY GOD! You look friggin FANTASTIC!" She said, standing up and clapping.

She did have reason to clap though. Alicia was decked in black and gold like she was pro New Orleans. She was dressed in a black and gold striped, very short baby doll dress with a deep v in the back, which clearly put her scar on display.

This was sure to be quite the conversation starter. She'd already told Antonia about being attack by a "crazed burglar". Gold bangles littered her arms and gold earrings dangled flirtatiously from her ears. She had tight Dita Von Teese like finger waves in her blonde hair that was thrown over one shoulder and her shoes were all black, super duper high Christian Loubotins.

"Aww you're too kind. You don't look half as fugly as you usually do either Ant," Alicia said, smiling sardonically as Antonia did a twirl in her silver sequin tank/ tunic and black destroyed skinny jeans, complete with matching heels. She'd straightened her hair and put on makeup that made her grass green eyes pop with a bunch of silver bangles.

"How sweet of you doll," Antonia said just as sarcastically. Just then, Alicia's body temperature dropped about a hundred degrees, and the room seemed to have been dropped in the middle of the South Pole with the windows down. She replayed that simple statement over and over again in her head.

_How sweet of you doll....doll...doll_

Just now, Antonia sounded terrifyingly like _him_.

The Joker.

She felt herself sliding down the wall to sit on the plush carpet, laughing at how a single word struck fear so deep in her it felt like she was drowning. Antonia ran over and gripped her arms.

"Hey Ali, if you aren't feeling well, you can stay up here. Not showing up to your own party is the new thing now, thanks to Bruce Wayne. Are you feeling alright?" she looked up at her redhead friend, cringing when her face was replaced with a terrifying Gas glow Grin.

The light scar on her scar felt tight and began to burn, making Alicia whimper and try to scoot away from her.

"Alicia?!" She shook her head, the cold air and pain disappearing and leaving Alicia on the floor dazed.

"Um, I'm fine, it was just something you said that reminded me of one of my patients at Arkham," she lied , patting her hair back into place and straightening her clothes. Antonia watched her carefully, making sure the light was back in her eyes before nodding.

"I don't know why you took that job. You make enough just photographing, why would you wanna be stuck around the Criminally Insane?" she grumbled, walking alongside her blonde friend down the stairs.

There truly was a crowd, mingling quietly amongst themselves, waiting for the hostess to arrive. They all turned to her as she came downstairs, an ocean of gold, black, and silver. She stopped on the last step and spoke quite clearly.

"Why the hell isn't anyone dancing?"

And with that, the room came to life. Music flowed through the house, pulsing the floor and putting a spell on the whole room.

Forgetting her worries, she crawled into the moving crowd and made sure to grab a drink.

* * *

**When you think of Alicia's dress, think Katy Perry in 'I kissed a girl'. Sorry this one is so short, but I wanna keep it organized a certain way.**


	11. Jack

As Alicia waded through the crowd, she felt hushed whispers following behind her. Sensing a crowd as it began to form, she led them towards the living room.

And after being forced to tell the story of how she was attacked by the Crazed Clown Prince of Crime about sixty seven times, Antonia came to her rescue.

"Get out!! All of you! If you don't want to be thrown out of this party on your asses, you will quit forcing your hostess to relive being attacked by the Joker!" With that, Antonia grabbed her arm and led her away.

"Ant, you knew?"

"Of course I knew. I'm Antonia," the red head said as she led her outside to the pool," I know all. I just figured that when you were ready, you'd let me know."

"Yeah. You goin in the pool?" she asked dumbly as Ant peeled out of her already scant outfit into an even scantier bronze bikini.

Trying to think if she wanted to swim this early in the party and risk ruining her hair, Alicia thought carefully, looking about the veranda. All thought process was lost, however when she caught the pair of chocolate honey eyes.

Worried that Alicia had spaced out again, Antonia looked around and tried to pinpoint what she was looking at.

"Um Ali, what are you... oh my word." Mr. OMG peeled up from his seat like a panther, suit jacket thrown over his arm and a drink in his hand. As he drifted across the veranda, eyes of all genders followed him.

They drank in his curly blonde hair, frilly lashes, sculpted face, pouty lips, and long legs as he continued to walk, brown eyes busy on the two girls.

"Is he coming over here?" Antonia asked green eyes bright with mischief.

"Yes. No. I hope so. Yeah, he's comin over here. My hair straight?"

"Nope. Better, go in the house and fix it.

"I will. Later, like after he comes over here.

"Ok fine. Do I have something in my teeth?"

"Ant, you have food from high school still in between your teeth. Go upstairs and floss."

Antonia snorted quietly as Mr. OMG continued closer, until he was in between them.

"Excuse me miss," he said, deep rolling purr turning women (and some men of course) in the surrounding area to a puddle.

"да, моя любовь*?" she purred, cold Russian fire lighting her body with a sexual aura so powerful it made Alicia want to puke.

_Show off..._

He gave her a small smile, teeth threatening to blind the pair as he took her hand and said," do you think I may uh have some time to talk to your blond friend?" her eyes flashed and she took her hand back.

The two friends made it a game to try and snag a guy, but Antonia was a sore loser when not all that fancy foreign talk got her laid.

Needless to say, Alicia was quite happy.

_Ahhhhh yeahhhh...Score 1 point for me!_

"You certainly may," she glanced at Alicia, eyes screaming bloody murder, and said "Have fun Ali," in a voice so her breath came out in puffs. She dove into the pool, speaking Russian to the first boy who came near her.

"I'm Jack," he said, still smiling, with his hand outstretched. Alicia smiled, light blush making her fumble for his hand and shake it.

"Alicia Kneeley, but you can call me Ali."

There was a pause, and as she looked at him, she felt like she'd seen him somewhere before. Something in his eyes threw her off, gave her this sense of déjà vu.

"Um, I'm sorry. Have we met? I don't know why, but I feel like we've met before somewhere."

She noticed a change in his smile when she said that. Nothing major or terrible, but it sent a shiver up her spine.

"We did actually. Uh, a while ago, I met you at a party you'd thrown. I was staring at you across the pool, and you were with your friend Josef Stalin over there. I had been watching you as I saw you throughout this uh, party, but there was always some guy trying to lead you away on his arm. So I bided my time, until I thought it was the, uh, right time to strike, so to speak."

"Want to sit down Jack? The strength of this story is making me weak in the knees?" Alicia smiled, leading him into the living, which was now thick with smoke and sex.

The noise hushed a bit as the two stepped in and found a corner for them.

"So, uh, Ms. Kneeley," Jack asked, handing her a cigar as a girl came by with a case," tell me. What do you do?"

She took it, pushing it between her lips, lighting it, and taking a deep drag of smoke. "How'd you know I was a smoker?"

He gave her a crooked smile and motioned over to the far wall, which had a picture of her blowing smoke into the air as she leaned against the window of a loft.

She snorted, and blushed, trying to recover herself.

"Well, I'm a part time psychologist. Photography is obviously my full-time occupation." as she said this, she examined the shadows as the caught on his angular face.

"And you have quite a beautiful bone structure Mr. Napier." it was his turn to blush and pause.

"Um...what?"

"You face's shape, it's amazing. I know men and women who would kill to have such a well-proportioned and angular face."

"Well take a picture Mr. Photographer. Not that I don't mind you staring." he said, but was surprised to see Alicia with a camera in hand.

"How-"

"Say cheese."

* * *

** Gee, that took forever to come out with...**


	12. Quite an Opportunity

**Updating will be for the next couple days, so expect chapters for all my stories ok?**

**I can aready tell that this fic is goin to be a long one.**

* * *

Alicia paused as she dragged her new model around her home, snapping shots of him at random.

He really was a knock-out, and she told him so.

"Thank you very much Ms. Kneeley," he said politely as he walked around the balcony, eyes distant and fuzzy.

This was going way too well.

Like he wasn't an expert at this stuff, but he had to congratulate him self on this one. He turned back to her and smiled.

"So, you aren't going to ask me what I do?" he asked as he rose up from the veranda ground, leading her to an empty half of the deck where the view of the city was fantastic.

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't mind, but that's usually the 1st thing women ask men. What if I'm a bum?" he said, looking at her from the corner of his sugary brown eyes. She smiled at this, and shook her head.

"I know you aren't a bum." he looked her way, blond eyebrows knitting together.

"How's that? You gonna gimme a psych evaluation?" He said sarcastically, covering his suave demeanor seamlessly as she took his hands and held them up in the air.

_Whoops...don't get too cocky_

"No, you have to pay for one of those. You see you're hands? Those are a Worker's Hands." He paused, tilting his head.

"What constitutes a Worker's Hands?"

"They're rough, calloused. You can see the little knicks and wounds from doing whatever it is you do. Most of the men at this party have hands like mine. You have my father's hands."

"Really now?" he said, flexing his hand and turning it this way and that, genuine interesting perking his ears.

"Yeah. When I was small, my Dad would pick me up and I would complain about his hands. And one day he told me that I'd know a good man when I saw his hands."

Jack snorted.

_Guess you're blinder than a bat with no eyeballs in a dark cave with no sonar...._

He looked at her, looking at her wavy sunshine hair, down her hourglass frame, all the way down her long legs, to her small dainty feet. As his eyes started back up, her eyes met his.

He wasn't one for all the poetic shit, but he had to admit, Blondie was a very attractive woman.

And not just physically. As they spoke around her condo, she didn't conduct herself like a bimbo. She talked with a purpose, whatever that might be. She was a sharp tack, and she didn't care if you knew it.

He wondered how she'd put those brains to use when he was finished with her.

As 'Jack' pondered this, a flash of raised skin on her back caught his eye.

"Uh, not to be nosy. But, uh, what's that hon?" She smiled and turned so he could get a better look at his handiwork.

"I got to meet Gotham's Clown Prince." He smiled, liking the fear and another feeling (respect?) she had in her voice.

"Why don't you get, uh, surgery to have it removed, or made, uh, less noticeable?" he had been surprised to see it there, and he expected a reason for her still having it.

Because it sure as hell wasn't like she couldn't afford its removal.

"Because scars add to the beauty of things. They create discord in the midst of conformity, and it drives people insane to know it. A scar, no matter how small, shows that no one is perfect, no matter what they may think. Scars show that everything can be gone in a flash, and that vulnerability is...is...." she struggled to find words as a rough finger traced the curve of her scar.

"Finish your sentence," the Joker said plainly, wanting to pull that little dress off and make some scars that left prettier scars than the letter of his name on her back. Any girl who could read thoughts out of his head like that needed a treat. He thought of all her options, and it made him growl.

She turned to him suddenly, eyes wild and skin flustered, chest beginning to heave.

_Oh my my myyyy....this is a pretty picture_

Now, the Joker is NOT a hesitant man when it came to damsels in need of sexual assistance, but he wanted to remember this. Because when she found out he wasn't Mr. Napier, it would crack the cream marble of her mind.

Its obvious the Joker scared her, and it would drive her a little wild to know that she welcomed the man she feared most into her very soft and comfy bed.

Not that he'd been sleeping in her bed, of course.

So they sat like there, faces so close that if Blondie blinked, the Joker would get a eye full of her pretty lashes.

"How long have you been hiding out in my house Clown?" she asked, voice like black silk.

The Joker blinked at that, the gears in his brain screeching to a halt and bursting into flames.

_Holy shit. She knew it was me the whole time. Well, cat's out the bag._

"A few weeks. Figured I'd be your, uh, Welcome Home gift when you got out of Gotham General." She never took her face from his, searching his eyes.

"How'd you-"

"Your face." for some reason, those two words made him angry, and he snatched her u by her hair and held her to him, so there would be no suspicion.

He was running a tight ship tonight, so no screw ups.

"What about it?" he growled quietly admiring how the small of her back caved in when she shivered.

"The shape and angles are the same, despite the fact you've cleaned up really well. Besides, do you really think I remember the face of the man that gave me this scar?" she whispered, eyebrows raised. They stayed that way for a while, until the Joker shoved her away giggling and she fell with a thud to the floor.

"I'm guessing that, uh, you figured it out not too long after, uh, I introduced myself. And I'm guessing you want something from, uh, me, otherwise you would've run away screaming. Right?" She nodded as she picked herself back up gracefully.

Which the Clown Prince had to applaud her for, because she did it in amazingly high heels.

"Photography's my thing. I want a photo shoot with you. Like not a shoot, but I want to take quality pictures and show them at the Gotham Underground exhibit."

"Any other requests Barbie? Because if I, uh, if I remember correctly, psychology is also a thing of yours."

"But its not what I want. Which is why if I don't get my photo op, I'm going to have you go through electro shock therapy and castration at the Asylum when I report you." he looked at her, smiling so wide he could feel his Trublend cracking.

"Are you , uh, are you threatening me Barbie? Do you realize what I'm capable of?"

"Yes. But I also know you want to break me. And the 1st step of doing so would be to win me over. You give me the opportunity to take my photos, I'll give you the opportunity to take my mind and twist it."

_Hmmm, she's drives a hard bargain...._

He drug his hands down his face, wiping off the cover up.

"You gotta deal Doll Face," he said, taking a shiny hand gun out and swiping Alicia right in the face with it. Picking up the stunned beauty and her camera, he threw her over his shoulder and gave the signal to his men he had stationed at the party in case shit went south,"Oh, and don't, uh, ever threaten me again. Or I'll cut your pretty little eyes out."

Next there was chaos in here house as he heard the fie of gunshots and screaming. He stepped out into the main area, and the crowd fell silent.

"Hello party people! I am the Joker, otherwise known as The Clown Prince of Crime, and I am in the business of anarchy! So tell me, how's the shindig?"

No response.

"Gee, don't all rush at once. Uh, anyway, I just wanted to say that ,uh, Alicia just got a very important photo shoot and I have been asked to escort her. K bye bye!" He said, firing loads off at random and shrieking with laughter as people fell to the ground around him.

As he threw the door open, he came face to face with a gun barrel.

"You put her down. And you do it now." Stalin was standing in his way, red hair and green eyes reminding him of a leprechaun.

"Sorry Red*, but you're just, uh, jealous I picked Barbie." and with that, he unceremoniously shot her in the shoulder, which effectively moved her out of his way and ran into the elevator.

He paused in the doorway, before calling back," And I want my raise!"**

Alicia was beating weakly on his back, moaning the word 'Ant' as he casually exited the elevator and shot the doorman, waiting on the empty streets as his "Getaway Wagon" burned rubber as it screeched to a stop in front of him.

He threw Barbie in the van, giving his men a look when they looked at her weak body hungrily.

"What's the girl for Boss?" One asked, and was shot in the foot as a result.

Not that he didn't ask a good question. But the Joker had been chilling in a posh attic that could easily pass for a living room for the past 3 weeks. He had caught all around Weapon-Mania. Besides, the foot would heal. Sure, it would hurt, but it would heal.

The rest of his men looked at him curiously, not at all bothered that they're coworker had just been shot by they're employer.

"How do you boys feel about a career in modeling?"

* * *

**I like this chapter a bit. R & R please!**

***The Joker has made jokes about Antonia being Russian before, so when he calls her Red, he isn't referring to her hair color. It's an allusion to the Red Scare.**

****In I think Chapter 9, Antonia says whoever painted the smiley faces on the dog was getting a raise**


	13. Breaking News

**This one is a short one, but another one is coming right after it!**

* * *

Batman was livid.

He'd been in his Lambo, on his way to Alicia's for a Late Night "Meeting". After being traumatized by Roger, he needed the feel of Alicia's smooth, wrinkle-free skin to heal his brain tissue. Thinking of how her silky voice frayed when he bit her in her oh-so-special spots when he got a phone call from Alfred.

Hitting the call button on the dash, a live feed of his kitchen came into view on the screen.

"Yes Alfred?" His butler didn't answer right away, thinking of how to say what he wanted to say. Which was not a good sign.

"Alfred?" he opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Are you on your way to Miss Kneeley's home?" he asked, and Bruce was immediately worried. Alfred only called her Miss Kneeley when something bad happened to her.

"Alfred," he said again, mind now racing as he sped down the street.

"I think Mike Engel can explain it better than I can sir," and with that, he changed screens to show Bruce the news on _Gotham Tonight_.

The red-blonde anchorman was seated in the center of the camera, but the screen zoomed to the panel called 'Breaking News'.

"And tonight, socialite Alicia Kneeley was kidnapped by the Joker during her Art Bash." The screen was showing policemen combing the city and questioning geust. There were road blocks on all major highways out of Gotham. Flights were being delayed. The world had stopped for this woman. And Bruce was in the middle of it, color drained as he sat like stone in his car.

"Eye-witnesses report he wasn't in his usual war paint and trench coat, suprisingly. In fact,"a full- color composite drawing came up,"he was dressed as what some some witnesses describe as 'The tan, blonde and blue-eyed Bruce Wayne'. He had been seen throughout the party talking with Kneeley, and apparently sturck while on the blacony looking at the city. He'd stationed his henchman throughout the party to ensure his safe escape. Besides kidnapping Kneeley, they killed 20 people and injured 50 in the ensuing chaos, including party planner to the stars and Kneeley's best friend, Antonia Korbuv."

As he watched this, he sat in traffic, policemen walking down the street and looking into peoples car. Overhead was a helicopter, the sound of the choppers echoing dully in his ears.

The sights and sounds solidified that this was not a dream, and that there was indeed a city wide manhunt for his best friend and ex-girlfriend.

Whom he still cared for immensly, and his heart fell into his stomach.

The screen now showed an ambulance, which Antonia was being loaded into. All while being questioned by the pushy anchorwoman.

"Ms. Korbuv, what can you tell me about tonight's events?"

"The *beep* is there to say?," she answered angrily as she was jostled towards the van,"He crashed the party, he killed some friends, I'm going to the hospital," she paled at this,"the Joker shot me in my damn shoulder, and," her face crumpled," he *beep* kidnapped my Ali," and then there were tears.

Alfred was back on the screen, face pale.

A match to Bruce.

Neither men said anything for a while as

"I'll have your suit ready upon your return."

"Thank you Alfred," he grated out in his Batman voice, spurring around and driving back to his mansion.

* * *

**Enjoy this quickie!**


	14. Nudies

**I'm updatin em super quick. More tomorrow!!!**

* * *

"Ant......ant...Annnnnt....." over and over again that 3-letter word filled her head, alongside thoughts of her red-head friend clutching her shoulder as blood pooled on the floor.

What would she do if Antonia lost her arm?

Or she died?

What would Alicia do without her best friend?

_What's more important, where the fuck was the protective detail?,_ Alicia thought to herself, _They were doing everything but friggin protectin me. When I get outta this, I'm suing the department for every goddamn half cent they own._

The smell of stale cigarettes, booze, musk, and piss- A typical guy's home, actually- flooded the blonde's nose as she cracked open her eyes. She was staring at the back of a man's body, looking down to see the back of his feet as he carried her up the stairs of a shitty apartment.

And as she observed this back side, she realized it was familiar to her.

A very, VERY familiar backside draped in metallic Givenchy. A backside who's owner had blonde hair that was tickling the side of her face.

A backside who's hand was massaging the back of her thighs. Still dizzy from being bashed in the temple with a gun, she raised her arms and let them fall back against the jokers ass.

"I'm awake asshole. So quit groping me."

She heard that god forsaken giggle of his, and was immediatley dumped on the ground.

"You don't wanna ride the Sex-Me-Up Express, then, uh, you can walk for now." She was immediatley surrounded by his stooges, who were all to happy to help a curvy blonde in a tiny dress and heels.

"Here you go ma'am," one said, his clown mask still on. He offered his hand, along with the other 8, andbent over, potraying a classic gentleman.

With a red mohawk.

And dingy clothes.

And a plastic mask of a disturbed clown.

She took his, and he called to the Joker.

"Yo boss, where do we put her?!" From a room upstairs, the Joker called.

"Dump her in here."

The foyer was quite then. The men looked around at one another, sharing glances from under their masks.

"Um, ok. You gonna be alright?" Now Alicia thought she was dreaming.

The henchmen of Gotham's - and probably the world's - craziest and most brutal maniac were concerned about her being molested by aforementioned brutal maniac?

What in the _hell_ was going on?! One of the men saw her face and spoke up in a suprisingly suave voice.

"The boss pays good if he likes you. And he usually lets the desperate ones live, since he knows that he can come back to them and use them for the little things and get the crazies for later." She blushed heavily, putting her head down.

So his men weren't crazy. Just depserate to survive. Most of them probably had families. And here she was judging them as if she were better than them.

"Sorry. I didn't know." She said as they took turns passing her up the steps like an assembly line. The man at the top os the stairs carried her into the room, suprising her once again.

The furniture wasn't delapidated or altogether destroyed, like it was down stairs.

Actually, it was nice. Tasteful even.

And right in the middle of the bed was the Joker, lying in a red thong and waggling his eyebrows.

What the fuck.

Alicia stood there, disturbed as she stood in a very nice room in a very bad house belonging (at the moment) to a very insane man, staring at that same man naked and in red _women's_ lingerie.

"Wait, women's lingerie?" Alicia asked, face scrunching together. The joker sat up, stomach rippling with the abs of a swimmer.

And for just a moment- a very short, yet wonderful moment- Alicia had the sudden urge to eat pancakes off of said abs.

Or go get her laundry and wash it on his stomach.

_Yum..._

"You don't like?" he asked, pouting dramatically, before jumping up and running in a circle.

_What theeee fuuuuuuck...._

As the Clown Prince ran in his circle, he started talking to her.

"So, uh, what do you think about my, uh, crib?"

"I hope you run into the goddamn wall." she hissed, catching her reflection in the mirror, immediatley noticing the purple-blue knot that was growing on the side of her head. He slowed his run a little tiny bit, smiling wide as can be.

"Ah, you're jus sore I hit ya."

"You're goddamn right I'm sore? You couldn't have thought of a better plan than that?" He laughed at that one, falling on the bed to rest.

"Hahaha I don't plan. I jus kinda wing shit, ya know? I always have my men somewhere nearby, but when shit happens, I jus do what comes to mind!"

"So you fucking _pistol whip_ me?" he shrugged, still grinning, looking like a zombie clown with that damn makeup on.

"You threatened me. Ruffled my feathers a little." She snorted, sitting on a small table next to the door. She saw her camera lying haphazardly there, and smiled.

So he intended to keep his end of the deal.

To some extent at least

"I think your...crib, is interesting. Not quite what I was expecting, but interesting."

"When is anything that's, uh, truly great what you expected?" he asked, still lying down and tracing his *delicious* abs with his dirty fingernails.

How the hell did they get so dirty that fast?

"Touche." She looked around the room, eyes coming back to the bed to see the Joker staring at her.

"What?"

"You're not gonna snap any, uh, nudes?" Alicia snorted loudly at that. Then giggled. Then burst into a fit of cackles.

The Joker didn't like that at all.

He was up and in her face in a millisecond.

Or his little friend, whom she'd met the day she went to the bank, was in her face, digging into her cheek.

"Something funny Gorgeous?" he growled, reminding her of a angry bear. The knife dug a little harder into her face, and she whimpered in response.

"No."

"Then, uh, pray tell, were you laughing at?"

She thought about jus playing the Ditzy Damsel Card like she did at the party, but he read her to well to fall for that again. So she explained herself as calmly as she could with a knife to her face.

"Well, it was just how you came out and a-a-asked me t-to take naked pictures of y-y-y-y-you. When I said I wa-wan-w-wanted picture o-of you, I wasn't really thinking like that. I was thinking more uh.....expressive?" she finished, gulping as she tried not to cry. He looked in her eyes, mulling her answer over, then laughed.

And not just a regular laugh. The kind of laugh that lead to hysterics (on her part, not his).

"Ah, I got ya. You want pics that will, uh, woo your art schmucks, right?" he asked, backing away to sit back down on the bed.

She nodded, tear slipping as she felt a bead of blood fall down her face. The Joker smiled at this, satisfied to see her afraid and off of the high horse she'd been on when she exposed him earlier.

"Hey doll." she looked up at that instanly, tears falling as more blood flowed out of her cheek like a small red river. She was afraid to do anything he wouldn't like, for fear he would snap again.

"Hmm?" Raising her camera, the Joker answered simply.

"Say Cheese."

* * *

**And so it begins.....**


	15. Nighttime

**This chapter is for Arathelia, whose review had me ROTFLOL'ing all over my room. And to answer your questions:**

**1. She might take a few later (maybe)  
2. he has quite a few Brucie/Batsy pictures laying around somewhere in her kitchen.  
3. She doesn't have a plan (for now)  
4. where the Joker got the panties, no they aren't Alicia's. All Alicia's stuff is purple.  
5. Idk why his G-string is red.**

* * *

Alicia wasn't actually all that surprised to hear that the Joker slept naked.I mean, the man had no problem parading around in a lacy, uber-racy G-string, so he had to be comfortable in his own skin.

It just looked hella weird since he still wore his makeup, so maybe he wasn't as comfortable as he would like for Alicia to believe.

She was, however, surprised to find out that not only did he suck his thumb, but he had nightmares.

The nightmare of everyone in Gotham, had bad dreams filled with monsters and demons that he was afraid.

She was sitting up in bed, watching him as he slept fretfully. One leg was thrown on her lap, the other straight on the bed. He was in a dead sleep, his one hand crossed to his chest, with the other on his mouth. He'd given her his black to wear to bed.

" I know you're afraid I'll, uh, molest ya and whatnot, so, uh, go in the bathroom and change Princess. I'll have my boys hold bring you some more clothes tomorrow from your little palace." was all he said before ripping off his (surprisingly cute, Alicia later noted. The Joker had great taste in women's underwear) undies and hopping into bed.

She looked around the room, observing the furniture's new appearance lent by the nighttime shadows. The room was comforting, like a retreat from the dilapidation that was outside.

The light from the stars calmed her even more. Like everyone who loved her was in that sky, making sure the joker didn't try and cut her head off with a mechanical pencil.

It soothed her twitchy nerves, at least a little.

One couldn't sit in bed next to the Joker without feeling a tad twitchy.

_This almost looks like a normal house...cozy even_

She looked at her camera as it watched the pair from the night stand, and was suddenly angry.

_If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here next to a goddamn maniac. You got Antonia shot. You helped that Kevlar split me and Bruce up, _She wiped away tears as her face crumpled up like a paper bag, _you're killing everything around me._

She cried silently as the Joker laid silently, tossing and turning every once in a while. She would look at him, the disguise from her party replacing the grimy mask he now wore.

Is that what he looked like before? Before whatever happened to him happened?

Before, they sat in the room together, The Joker forcing her to listen to a hundred different stories of how he got his scars while he doodled on his legs.

It was as if he couldn't choose whether he preferred being in a car accident or being attacked by his girlfriend with a hack-saw.

Tuning out the 8th version, she began planning her escape. It would be difficult, and he had just been upholding his part of the deal.

Alicia had known that in order to get truly breath-taking pictures of the Joker, she'd have to see how he lived, experience life as he did. Because she was quite sure he wouldn't be willing to visit a studio without having to set it on fire or desecrate in some form or fashion. Not to mention, they'd all get arrested. And she'd lose her job at Arkham.

Not that it was a great job, but photography wasn't a full-time job (yet), so she needed something to fill up her daytime hours. Besides, the pay was amazing, and she decided she'd get Crane's panties in a knot before she left and leave a real challenge for the next guy.

That sure as hell didn't mean she couldn't be upset about her current predicament though.

So, she decided she'd get her shots, and get the hell away from him and his too-good-to-be-sane goonies.

Now here she sat, bored and upset. She wiped her tears away, and decided she was done crying.

_The fuck am I tearing up for? I'm a smart cookie, and I have the opportunity of a life-time. If I take these shots, I can quit my job at Arkham, be done with all those fucking loons,_ she grabbed her camera,and turned to the Joker.

To have her wrist snatched in a death grip.

Terrified he'd woken up, she became still as stone that was frozen in a blizzard.

Which was very still.

His eyes never opened though.

Instead, he squirmed so he was lying with his head in her lap, and sighed.

And something that Alicia thought she'd never see happen did happen.

A single tear fell out of the Joker's eye, leaving a single track down the side of his ghastly make-up.

_Holy shit monkeys in a snow blizzard. Did he face just leak?_

She tried to wrench her hand away from the Joker's so she could snap a picture before the tear fell off of his face, but his hand had moved to hers.

Then something else amazing happened.

He sighed again, a single word.

"Momma."

* * *

** Ah shit! Till next time!!**


	16. Sous le ciel de Paris

**Hey there again! Enjoy this one, its got the whole semi-sentimental feel to it. If it's too corny, lemme know. I don't want you guys yakking all over your computer screens.**

**

* * *

**Jonathan was bored.

Utterly, completely, ridiculously...bored.

"So, einstein, is this what you had in mind when you said you 'Wanted to get closer to Blondie'?" Scarecrow lay on the ground of their brand new cell, looking out the window at the starry sky.

"Tch."

There was a transparency to him, in the sense that he was indeed somewhat see through. This was probably due to the brand new medication Dr. Kneeley put him on after her & Scarecrow's 'traumatic heart to heart'.

Although he was slowly fading, this did nothing to dampen his spirits in the least.

"This is just a minor setback in a grand scheme, my friend, a minor setback." he said, sighing as Jonathan twirled his hair lovingly. Hair that was exactly like Johnny's. They both stared out from between the bars of their cells at she sky. Neither had seen the sky in a while, and were happy for the change of scenery.

To an extent.

Their old cell provided privacy. Scarecrow was quite upset as they were hauled out of their love nest upstairs to the new cell.

The cell with the big plexiglass window.

The cell right around the corner from their Good doctor's office. Sex was immediatley erased from the 'Things to Waste Time With' List. Not that the guards would see much. After all, the only one who could see Scarecrow was jonathan.

Still, it would be awkward if a guard walked in on Jonathan masturbating.

That would land him in the strait jacket, effective immediately.

Not to mention all that woman hired guards with some decency, firing all the old gaurds as she had promised.

"So how are you going to correct this?" Jonathan asked, stroking Scarecrow's hair like he was a kitten. Scarecrow thought about his reply, eys distant as he concentrated on finding a new escape route.

"I'm not sure. I never actually had a plan to begin with. I just made some shit up off the top so you'd quit riding my balls- not in _that_ way- about it. I'm not the calculating mastermind, you are kitten." as he said this, Jonathan's hand tangled itself in his hair and yanked roughly.

"What the hell Scarecrow!" he whined, ignoring Scarecrow's attempts to reconcile as he took his hand out of his hair and kissed his fingertips lovingly.

"Look Johnny, think of it this way, the way I see it. Obviously, by moving us up here and putting us so close to her office, she has some kind of feeling for us. Little as it may be."

"So?" Jonathan added, lips puffing out as he pouted like a child.

"So," Scarecrow said, kissing Jonathan deeply, stealing his breath,"forming the kind of bond I want takes time. Especially when we're branded psychotic and the intended target is our psychiatrist. Don't worry, this means we'll have a strong bond with her. And the stronger the bond, the more fun it is to watch when you break it."

And suddenly, Jonathan was afraid as they continued to watch the lightening sky silently, his hand in his alter ego's hair.

Was that what Scarecrow felt about their bond?

xxxXXXxxxXXXxxx

"Oh shit." Alicia whispered, shocked and disturbed by the events before her.

Did he just call her momma? What the hell was going on?

She called the psychologist in her brain forward, and she scrutinized his every twitch. He was squirming about fretfully on her lap, making small pained noises. A film of sweat was on his skin, which wa as pale as his makeup. And he continued to call for his mother.

_OH FUCK ME! He's having a nightmare! Uranus!!_

She smiled, proud of her revelation. It made her feel stronger, knowing she knew one of his secrets.

Boy oh boy, if the guys at Arkham knew about this....

She watched him some more, feeling worse and worse as he moaned and whimpered like a frightened child. and pretty soon, her conscious kicked in. A little version of her dropped down onto her right shoulder, sparkling and dressed in traditional angel garb.

_Help him._

**_Psh, what the fuck ever little Angel person. The guy bashed my brain in with a gun. Do you really think I'm gonna help him?_**

_You were asking for it. Did you really think threatning him was smart?_

**_....no, but still!_**

_But still hell Alicia. Did you think he was going to act sane and just waltz out with you over his shoulder? Obviously, he wants you to be found if h caused all that commotion. _

**_But-_**

_But nothing. He could just kill you and carry on with taring the city to bits._

**_Why the hell are you always right? Where's the little devil bastard?_**

_She's on break. I'm susposed to steer you in the right direction, all that other shit over there is for her._

**_Whatever. How do I help the guy?_**

**_What did Murphy do for you when you came in him & Roger's bedroom at night after you had a nightmare?_**

**_ He....sang me a lullaby?! You expect me to sing a lullaby?! To the Joker?!_**

_Um, yes. If you don't, I won't let you have any peace._

**_Whatever, you evil little cumquat. I'll help. Just go the hell away, you're pissing me off with you correctness._**

_Whatever._

And just like that, the angel was gone, leaving a very irritated blonde to contend with the crybaby in her lap.

"What the hell do you sing a psychopath?" she asked herself, consulting the mental iPod.

Bat for Lashes?

Arctic Monkeys?

She concentrated, remembering to a few hours ago.

She had changed out of her dress into th Joker's shirt, and as she came out of the bathroom, he was mumbling a song in French.

She'd been surpirsed, not knowing the Joker knew anything but english. There he was, singing that creepy ass song about plucking a little lark to death.

_Alouette, gentille Alouette _  
_Alouette je te plumerai _  
_Alouette, gentille Alouette _  
_Alouette je te plumerai _  
_Je te plumerai la tête _  
_Je te plumerai la tête _  
_Et la tête, et la tête _  
_Alouette, Alouette _  
_O-o-o-o-oh _  
_Alouette, gentille Alouette _  
_Alouette je te plumerai_

So, obviously he liked the French. So, sh picked a song and cleared her throat.

She hadn't sung since Murphy's funeral, and she was rusty on her French. But she was gonna ive it a shot anyway.

_Sous le ciel de Paris_  
_S'envole une chanson hum hum_  
_Elle est née d'aujourd'hui_  
_Dans le coeur d'un garçon_  
_Sous le ciel de Paris_

She had always loved edith Piaf , thanks to the French Murphy. He had her learn French when she learned how to talk so he could teach her. He always told her when she was small that she had her voice, and she grew up believing that, so we wasn't worried about being tone deaf. And she could indeed sing. But her voice had more of a smoky quality that gave the song a blue sort of tone. As she sang, she became full of a compassion she hadn't felt in years, stroking the clown's hair like a mother would a child. What little chatter that was going on downstairs stopped, the men listening as she lulled the Joker into more pleasant thoughts

_Marchent des amoureux hum hum_  
_Leur bonheur se construit_  
_Sur un air fait pour eux_  
_Sous le pont de Bercy_  
_Un philosophe assis_

_Deux musiciens_  
_Quelques badauds_  
_Puis les gens par milliers_  
_Sous le ciel de Paris_  
_Jusqu'au soir vont chanter hum hum_  
_L'hymne d'un peuple épris_

_De sa vieille cité_  
_Près de Notre Dame_  
_Parfois couve un drame_  
_Oui mais a Paname_  
_Tout peut s'arranger_  
_Quelques rayons_  
_Du ciel d'été_  
_L'accordeon d'un marinier_  
_L'espoir fleurit_  
_Au ciel de Paris_  
_Sous le ciel de Paris_

_Coule un fleuve joyeux hum hum_  
_Il endort dans la nuit_  
_Les clochards et les gueux_  
_Sous le ciel de Paris_  
_Les oiseaux du Bon Dieu hum hum_  
_Viennent du monde entier_  
_Pour bavarder entre eux_  
_Et le ciel de Paris_

The city of Gotham seemed to quiet down then, falling asleep to her sunny lullaby as she rocked the clown back in forth in her lap. He became quiet, thumb shooting back into his mouth. she smiled, happy to see it was working. She relaxed a little, laying back against the headboard, stroking the Jokers (still blonde) hair. She could feel her eyes closing, and she smiled, sleep dropping its heavy weight on her.

_A son secret pour lui_  
_Depuis vingt siècles_  
_Il est épris_  
_De notre île Saint Louis_  
_Quand elle lui sourit_  
_Il met son habit bleu hum hum_  
_Quand il pleut sur Paris_

_C'est qu'il est malheureux_  
_Quand il est trop jaloux_  
_De ses millions d'amants hum hum_  
_Il fait gronder sur nous_  
_Son tonnerre eclatant_  
_Mais le ciel de Paris_  
_N'est pas longtemps cruel hum hum_  
_Pour se fair' pardonner_  
_Il offre un arc en ciel_

Quiet now, she was still, relishing her good mood. Listening to her conscious made her feel a lot better, empowered. As her eyes closed, she gave everything in the room a silent goodnight. Her eyes getting heavier, she flitted about looking for her most prized item.

Eyes finally closing for the night, she smiled at the final glimpses of her camera.

* * *

** Gee that one was hella long.**

**The Aloutte song came from Lauralot's Act Like We're Fools. She's the reason I got into writing in the Batman genre. Big whoops to her, so go check her out if you haven't readany of her fics, they're great!!!**

**Sous le diel de Paris (Under the Paris Sky) is by Edith Piaf, an artist I love dearly.**

**Well, Tata! **

**Um, oh yeah- please review! I like hearin from you guys :-D**


	17. Attention to Details

**From Antonia's POV, so enjoy. She reminds me of that one friend you have that can read you like a book, and is willing to cover for your ass so you can go do whatever you fell like doing.**

* * *

Antonia woke to blinding sunlight. The kind of sunlight you hated to have in you face after being shot by a kidnap-happy maniac and losing a lot of your blood.

"Мне нужно выпить"* she moaned, watching as a man in a trench stepped into her view.

_Dude, he totally has to be the 5-0**..._

Sure enough, two cops came to flank him on both sides. He was an attractive man, a brunette with proud salt flakes in his hair and mustache.

"Afternoon Ms. Korbuv, I'm Lieutenant James Gordon of the Gotham Police Department." he said, sitting in a chair beside the bed.

"You're here about Ali, aren't you? she asked, still drowsy. The memories of the night before were slowly rousing her out of her sun-time grogginess.

"Yes Ma'am. My men have split up and are currently interviewing everyone that was at that party last night. But, you're her best friend and I would think that the two of you spent alot of time of the party together, am I correct?" he asked, nodding when she shook her head yes.

"At the beginning of the party, a lot of guests noticed the scar on her back. We'd all heard rumors about the Joker having attacked Alicia, but the scar made everyone curious. It wasn't the Joker's style to do something like that, so naturally we had questions."

"How did you hear about this supposed 'attack'?" Gordon asked in a deadpan face, which gave him away. She smiled at that, shaking her head.

"Alicia is the head psychiatrist at Arkham, Lt. Gordon. However, she's also a photographer who specializes in scandal. She bathes in it so to speak. So most of her friends bathe in it as well, meaning her friends are in the fields of the Arts," she paused, seeing if he knew where she was going with this conversation,"meaning she has quite a few friends who write. Journalists to be exact." he opened his mouth, but she raised her hand to quiet him with a knowing smile

"Now, Lieutenant, we both know leaks happen all the time, so don't acted surprised please. Now, since she's every ones friend, everyone knew that if the press leaked this, she'd lose her job at Arkham, so we kept it under wraps. A myth, so to speak. At the party, she'd confirmed what everyone believed. Of course,everyone started to get pushy. I'd been watching her from a safe distance, making sure the questions didn't get too intrusive or bizarre. Once it reached that level, I went and got her." he paused, thinking about what she'd say next. Gordon's pen was racing across his notepad, and the cops behind him seemed somewhat interested as she continued her story.

"We were getting ready to get into the pool, when this guy came over-"

"Describe him."

She thought very carefully about what she was going to say next. She knew police were everywhere, interviewing everyone. She'd known what was going on as soon as she watched the Joker carry her friend downstairs, camera under his arm.

This was the photo op that would put Alicia Kneeley on the map, and she was literally risking her life for it. If The Joker wanted her dead, he wouldn't have created the unnecessary commotion.

Well he would of done something that would cause hella commotion, but he would've done something truly mind-blowing. Like sticking a bomb in her home and destroying the entire building, slaughtering everyone. Instead he got into a very believable disguise and then waltzed out with her over his shoulder.

So, as she lie there on the ground, Antonia came up with a plan to keep Alicia's interests safe. A girl, her assistant, dropped to her side.

"Antonia! I called the cops!" She grabbed her by the dress strap and brought her closer.

"Go back in that room and tell my guests that, if they do exactly as I tell them, their hospital and funeral bills will be paid in full by me. Now listen carefully, tell everyone to 'forget' Mr. OMG's face."

"Mr. OMG? You mean the blonde f-oh,"the girl said, shakily rising up running back into the party. Antonia smiled as her vision went dark, hoping what she'd done would turn out for the best.

And it had. So she answered the only way she could.

Besides, it wasn't like she was lying anyway. She couldn't remember his face, thanks to one too many shots of tequila.

"I don't remember really. I was a little of my rocker, you know? I could have told you which way was up last night." Gordon scrutinized her, brows furrowing as he tried his best to intimidate her into spilling the beans.

No dice. He realized she was telling the truth (or part of it anyway), and rose out of his seat.

"Well, contact me if you remember anything. I'd hate to see anything happen to your friend." he said, leaving the implication obvious. Which pissed Ant off.

"Don't you imply jack shit to me Gordon. You knew what she'd been through during her 1st encounter with the Joker, and you had no protective detail on her."

"We did." he answered, rubbing his temples as he and his men left the room. Antonia's blood rumbled in her eardrums angrily as she hissed.

"Some protective detail." she scoffed, folding her arms. Getting out of bed to rummage through her purse, she pulled out a flask of vodka. Taking a swig, she looked out of the window.

"Alicia, you better hope that maniac lets you go. Because I just paid about 100 hundred people to sign your death warrant if he decides to keep you."

And, as the realization of her actions hit her, she realized she was gonna need something stronger than vodka to feel better.

* * *

**END!!! You know the dealio...Review!!!**

***Russian for 'I need a drink'**

****the 5-0, for those of you that don't know, are the cops**


	18. Lipstick

**Uh, not much to say. Enjoy!!!**

**

* * *

**Alicia was resting peacefully, dreaming of people racing to take her picture as she stood beside her own artwork.

That is, until two mischievous hands wrapped themselves around her narrow ankles. Opening her eyes groggily, she got a face full of sunshine.

"Wha' are y-"

"Rise & Shine Princess!!" the Joker cried, wrenching the blonde out of bed and onto the floor. Now fully awake - and pissed- she looked at the Joker, who was make-up free.

"Jumpin Jehova's witness! The hell was that for?!" she hissed, rubbing her sore ass tenderly. The Joker was seated on the bed, cracking up like an evil 8-year old. His teeth were still clean, so it was a little weird to see bleached bone teeth in that scarred mouth. His hair was clean, although it was now grass and lime green.

"Just wanted to see if, uh, you were still in your little 'Help me I'm Afraid' stage. Glad to see that, uh,you got your bite back." She stared at him angrily, realizing he'd only done that because he'd seen her cry last night. He didn't like to see her acting as if she was ready for anything.

The Joker apparently saw himself as a gale force, an unpredictable storm. And seeing her weaken under his strength made him giggle. He was trying to get a rise out of her so she'd do it again.

She watched him, irritated and groggy, as she reached for her camera, which was sitting on the floor. But her hand was gripped by a bigger, tan one right when her manicured nails grazed the Telephoto lens.

"Ah Ah Ah first things first!" the Joker said playfully, pulling Alicia up and ruffling her hair.

"Gotta ,uh, get ready and all that good shit. My boys brought up your whole closet!," he cooed proudly as he led her to the small closet. Which was full of all her clothes and shoes.

She would've died of joy if she hadn't noticed that all her shoes were laid about haphazardly. Her golden spiked and studded Louboutins were risking de-studding as they were pressed under her Damier Print Travel bag. Her bag full of clothes.

"You don't, uh, mind if I pick out your outfit do you?" The Joker asked, throwing her shoes into the room carelessly. Alicia held her breath, holding back tears as her shoes crashed into the floor and furniture.

A chunk of her soul fragmented as her Ferragamo slingback pumps went crashing into the window with a thud, the leather smudging. She tried to move, tried to speak to save her shoes from any further assault, but the pain of seeing them treated so carelessly paralyzed her.

She really felt as if she died when her Glow in the dark Rodarte stilettos went sailing through the air. she could have sworn she heard something breaking when they crashed into the dresser.

_Oh my god.....My babies!! Save them Save them!!!_

"Uh, I'll pick out my clothes!" she cried, grabbing a hold of her sold spike Loubou's before the Joker could traumatize them too. The Joker smiled devishly, scars threatening to split again, and he shook his head.

"Women and shoes. I'll, uh, never understand," he said simply, patting Alicia's hair as she clutched her babies for dear life.

"Wear something, uh, sexy Dollface. Somethin with those gold hell wheels your wearing. Oh yeah, and put one of these on," he said, throwing several wigs onto the bed and leaving.

She walked to the bed, looking at the wigs curiously. She knew she couldn't be seen now that it was probably all over the news that Joker had nabbed her. There were 3 of each in auburn, blonde, black, and brown. Each 3 were in varying lengths from long to short.

"Hmm," she hummed, picking up the black pixie wig," Always wanted to have black hair."

xxxx

Alicia walked out to the hallway with her camera in hand, hearing the Joker singing in one of the other bathrooms. Downstairs, she could hear his goons talking and moving about. She followed the singing, camera ready. There was a bathroom at the end of the hall, the door cracked just enough for Alicia to see through.

The Joker was in the mirror shirtless, putting the mask he was so well-known for. The white face paint was already on, and he was pouring liquid eyeliner onto his hand and smearing it across his eye.

The tools of the trade were laid out line-straight on the kitchen counter, the same amount of space between each.

Lifting up her camera, Alicia clicked away.

There was an art to it she realized. The face paint was drying meaning he had sat patiently as the paint dried, which in itself was startling. The Joker sometimes exhibited human traits, things as simple as having nightmare, and it proved that there was something human inside of him, no matter how small it was.

It also proved that was truly unpredictable, because it was expected of him to be insane, so it threw you off when he behaved in a sane manner. The Joker was one scary motherfucker.

_Click. Click. Click._

But as he applied over his eyelids, slowly, Alicia was reminded of a painter. Every stroke was surprisingly delicate and circled his eyes continuously, the swirl of his fingers precise and his lines clean. When both eyes were done, he dabbed the wet liner around the edges so it appeared smeared and slightly messy.

Alicia continued to take pictures, awed as she watched the Joker as he lifted up his firetruck red lipstick.

He seemed to worship the lipstick the most, a smile coming onto his face as it swiveled into the air.

_Click. Click. Click._

He slid it across the left scar first, tender as he traced the uneven line with upmost love and care. He watched himself, expression pleased as he admired the dexterity and intimacy of the task.

_Click. Click._

He formed the time old 'o' shape with his mouth as the red slid onto his full lips. He made sure no flesh was left uncovered, no stray marks to be made. He slid it with that same tenderness to the right side, enjoying tracing the scraggly line of his scar. When his lips were perfect (by his standards), he smeared the lines a little, dabbing them to make them seem carelessly done and impulsive.

_Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. _

She found herself smiling the same self-satisfied smile of the Joker, a large part of her happy everything turned out the way it did. These shots were enough to set her career off sky, and she knew even better shots were coming

* * *

**I imagine Alicia to be a shoe fanatic. She exudes this classy, eccentric air, and she thinks shoes are just another way to express that personality. So by Joker totally assaulting her shoes, he kills little pieces of her. I also gift her with the best shoes, as you will see if you just follow the links below, so she has to be protective of them. Or I'll have her killed in the story :D**

**In other news, here's a glimpse into Alicia's closet!!**

_**Top 6 Pairs of shoes Alicia owns (in no particular order)**_

**# 1: Blondes X Louboutin Golden Spiked heels (so sexy) http:// www. highsnobette. com/ news/ 2009/ 12/09/ rihanna-blondes-x-louboutin-spike-shoes /#more- 21525**

**#2: Rodarte glow-in-the-Darks http:// www. highsnobette. com /news/ 2010/ 02/ 17/ rodarte-fall-2010-glowy-shoes /#more-25006**

**#3 Louboutin Ulona (yum) http:// www. highsnobette. com/ news/2 009/ 12/ 23/ shoe-lust-christian-louboutin-ulona / ulona2/**

**#4: Omelle 'Drew' http:// www. highsnobette. com/ news/ 2009/ 05/ 15/ win-a-500-omelle-gift-certificate-last-chance/**

**#5 Adidas X Jeremy Scott Tassel Sneaks http:// www. highsnobette. com/ news/ 2010/ 01/ 28/ adidas-x-jeremy-scott-tassle-sneakers/**

**#6: Pointer Women's 'Emily' http:// www. highsnobette. com /news/ 2010/ 02/ 10/ pointer-woman-springsummer-2010-emily-shoes/ pointer_emily_white_back/**


	19. Playing Nice

The Arkham employees didn't like for high-security inmates to watch the news.

Well, Jonathon was indeed a high security inmate. And he was watching the news, undisturbed by guards. Or anyone else for that matter. Every time his shrink did a Houdini, the security that was supposed to be watching him left with her. So he was more than intrigued to hear that one of his favorite photographer also happened to be his shrink.

Once a few months before he was first captured, he gassed an art exhibits. For shits and giggles, you know. While strolling among the many screaming and hysterical guest, he noticed that all the photography on the walls were actually quite.....interesting. The subjects were of the seedier variety, the poses were unique, the pictures gritty and well-taken. All in all, pretty brave. Self confident even. He respected someone who would push the limits of normalcy only to have the masses eat it up like starving animals. So, he 'borrowed' the works, and kept them in storage under a false identity.

"Who woulda thought?" Scarecrow asked, geniuinely entertained as he watched Gotham News. Apparantly, the ace photographer and head psychologist had been kidnapped by the One and Only Clown Prince of Crime a few wees ago during a party she'd thrown celebrating her art work being accepted into one of the most prestigious art shows in the world, Gotham Underground. It was famous enough to give photographers everywhere an orgasm, but selective enough you didn't have to worry about the artists forgetting where they came from.

"Wow, I thought we were all friends with one another. And of all the things to talk to us about therapy, she leaves the juiciest bits out?" Crane snorted at that, stroking the back of Scarecrows neck playfully.

"Looks can be deceiving."

"Psh yeah, because she totally didn't look like a fucking cesspool of secrecy anyway," he said, and they watched the news in silence. Since everyone completely ignored what was easily one of the most dangerous men in Gotham, he'd stopped taking his meds for "bipolar disorder", allowing his alter ego and best friend to come back full swing. The only thing he pt in his mouth besides food - and occasionally Scarecrow's penis- was his medicine for psychosis.

Because he couldn't stand millions of crazed feathered flea bags pecking at Scarecrow's eyes and flaying his skin.

That was a definite hell no.

Of course, both boys were a lot happier now that there wasn't anything keeping them from running freely.

"We could leave if we wanted to you know right Johnny?" Scarecrow said simply as he sat in Jonathon's lap and stroked his hair absentmindedly. He'd been talking of escape a lot those past couple of weeks. He mentioned it before sex, after sex, before bed, when they woke up. Every five minutes, he spoke of escaping this place.

"What is with you and all this talk of escape?" Jonathan asked, shivering as fingernails found a sensitive spot behind his ear and lingered there thoughtfully.

"Do you like being here?" Scarecrow asked, looking down at his alter ego,"Is that it?"

Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, to protest. But no words came out. He frowned at this, his freckled nose wrinkling at the fact he couldn't rebut Scarecrow's statement.

"You like the fact everything is get three meals a day, a bed- albeit a shitty one-, clothes, the whole Shebang. We even get meds to keep the crows away. You don't wanna admit it Johnny, but you like your shit to be predictable." Scarecrow gazed around the room, a look of slight disgust in his shiny black eyes.

"Look at theses fuckers Johnny. They're completely fine with being so doped up they can barely remember their names. Their fuckin nobodies. We're better than them Jonathan," he was staring dead at Crane now, eyes completely serious. Jonathan stared back, taking in everything his friend had just said. He looked over at the other inmates/patients, whose eyes were dull with heavy drugs. A few aid on the floor or on the adjacent sofa, drool pooling beneath them as other patients shuffled dimly around them. All wore the same brain-dead smile, leaving crane to feel cold and jaded.

He knew then that Scarecrow was right, and he was ashamed. He'd been fine- never quite happy - living here in the same confines he'd once thrown people into. he was completely sated here, and it made him sick.

"You're right. When are we leaving?" scarecrow looked at him, smiling like his old self - completely maniacal.

"We're leaving tonight!" He cried, hopping in Crane's lap,"And with the Doc out on what I'm guessing is permanent leave -we all know how the Joker rolls -the Bat will be too busy hunting for her to even notice us! Go get our meds and the gas." Jonathan stopped, tingles running up his spine at the mention of his Fear Toxin.

"Where-"

"Where they keep everything silly! In the janitors closet. The closet that just so happens to b next door to us." Scarecrow said, still smiling as he signaled he was ready to go. Jonathan went to a guard, and was led out of the rec room. As he did so, Scarecrow disappeared, leaving a feeling of mischief in the air. As he was hustled down the hall, he acted like the other patients in the rec room. His eyes fluttered and shut, and he let his mouth fall slack. He saw one guard, and nearly danced with anticipation as he drank in the image of the man's face, filled with pity.

He was gently pushed into his cell, and he waited happily, Scarecrow reappearing beside him. They smirked smugly as they watched the door closed, noting joyously that the lock didn't click once. Alicia Kneeley picked good men to watch over her patients, but that was her mistake. They were too good, kind enough to get careless.

"So," Crane asked as he waited for it to get dark,"What are we gonna do when we get out?" Scarecrow sat down on the floor, staring at him in mock thought.

"We're gonna go find Doc." Jonathan stopped smiling a little and cocked his head to the side, confused.

"Why?"

"Because you'll need a fresh subject. After all, we don't know if that toxin is still effective after so long."

"What happened to playing nice?" Jonathan asked, shivering as e licked his suddenly dry lips.

"We can play nice after we gas her. People will do anything to get rid of what they fear most."

* * *

EnD!!!


	20. Resolve

**I'm back. FREEEDOM! **

**

* * *

**

"You ready Barbie?" the Joker called from downstairs. Alicia stood in the mirror, putting the finishing touches on her outfit for Day 1 of the Joker chronicles. Currently outfitted in a black pixie cut wig and green, she really looked like someone else. She was dressed in a tight black and white striped dress with a bow cut back, black studded ankle wrap sandals, an camera equipment in a tote bag. She readjusted her wig and smiled, liking the whole edgy look.

"Black's a nice color on ya girly," said the Joker's voice from behind her, tugging a strand of the hair that wasn't hers thoughtfully. Alicia looked back at him blankly, not really sure where to go from here. The Joker seemed to be at a loss for words a well as he twitched and ticked in place. She was getting used to his constant movement from their earlier encounters. Her inner psychologist said the impulsive and constant motion was a way to ignore the otherwise slow moving world around him. If he was always moving, the rest of the world would never catch up.

As she thought this, she felt her feet go from underneath her, and the very edges of something skimming across her back.

"Ya really need to, uh, be more attentive ya know Doll?" Joker's voice said from the top of the stairs as he cackled, watching as Alicia went sailing down.

Realizing what was happening, her face screwed up in rage.

"You crazy son of a bitch!"Not wanting to wind up with a broken back, she turned with her hands outstretched. She quickly maneuvered her camera bag to sit in the cradle of her back as she went crashing into the old hardwood floor, skin catching on fragmented wood as she screeched to a halt on the floor. His henchman grouped around her, watching as Alicia picked herself up ff the floor in a huff, jerking her wig and clothes back in place.

the Joker saw her frustration and cackled as the men dispersed out the door.

"You were just, uh, standin' there daydreamin' Doll face. It was my responsibility to uh, awaken you," he said, still laughing as he walked towards the door" besides, you wouldn't wanna miss the,uh, fun stuff, am I right?"

Alicia stared after that green head angrily, wanting to hurl her camera at it. But, she decided, she'd be the bigger person in this, and counted slowly backwards from 20 to 0.

I only have to deal with i love yu this for...a little while. she thoght to herself, wondering just how long 'a little while' was as she followed the men out of the apartment and downstairs to a big black van. She realized just how much trouble she was getting herself into.

Sure, the Joker ha caused all that commotion to make sure people knew she was gone, but what was he hiding. He was batshit crazy and sadistic most definitely, but he was not stupid in the slightest. And he was utterly, completely unpredictable, and just because a plan of his started one way doesn't mean it would end the way he had originally schemed up.

So, if he had kidnapped her, was he going to let her go a promised?

Better yet, would he set her free all in one piece?

Better still, would she get out alive?

xxx

There were no leads on Alicia. Anywhere.

And it pissed the Batman off to end. Alicia Kneeley was a beautiful, blonde, Debutante whose face had been plastered all over the media. And nobody had seen her not once.

There were no anonymous tips, there were no sightings.

"What the hell is going on?" Batman growled as he ran over rooftops and glided through the streets to get to his destination. Gordon had let him see the witness interview tapes and files. No one, out of the 300+ geusts, knew what happened. No one knew how the Joker had gotten in, No one had heard of the sauve guy that Gotham Tonight had said he was, nothing. Even those who had been injured knew nothing. At first, Bats and the GPD attributed it to shock. But when the same geusts were revisited 3 weeks later, still nothing. Most even changed their stories. So, here sat both the Dark Knight & Gotham's finest, in a pile of paperwork and confusion. The Police were frustrated and wanting to quit. They were stumped as to how nearly 400 people who interacted with the victim on a daily basis and had been there during her kidnapping had different stories, and were so lost.

But Batman knew how.

"If you are another reporter, you can go fuck yourself," a heavily accented voice said. As the door opened, Antonia stuck her fiery red head out, nose turned up at the idea of more journalists looking for their Big Break.

"I'm no reporter," he growled, and barged into her condo before she even had time to blink. Her eyes widened and she shuffled backwards quickly, her short green nightgown making her look so very Irish.

"Er, ah, Batman!" she said, shaking herself into a nervous smile,"Always good to see Gotham's hero. What can I help you with? Is somebody after me?" He ran up on her, forcing her against the wall.

"Where's Alicia Kneeley?" He roared, tempted to put his hands around her little neck. He wouldn't hut her, just scare her a little. People spoke faster when they were afraid.

But Antonia, although afraid, was tough.

"I don't know. You should be looking for the Joker," she said, and pushed past him (with some effort), and sat down at her dining room table, pouring herself a drink.

"The Joker didn't bribe off Kneeley's party geusts, did he? The Joker has means," The batman growled, looking like a lion about to pounce on a red-haired gazelle,"but not enough means to pay out that much money to that many people." Antonia didn't budge, and continued to sip her drink.

_Stubborn ass_, this time, it was Bruce talking. He'd known Antonia during his time with Alicia. She wasn't one for apologies, and once she got something in her head, nobody was going to change her mind.

Except the Batman.

"Sorry I do-"she lost the rest of words when she was pushed backwards in her chair, and the Bat was upon her.

"Yes, you do. Why did you bribe those people? Do you work with the Joker?" This time, he grabbed her by her neck, carrying her over to the wall they'd started. He tightened his grip a little, watching as her eyes widened gradually, the lack of oxygen scaring her.

"Tell Me!" He hissed, right in her face. She was cracking, but she was still trying to fight. She kicked and scratched at the Kevlar, gasping like a fish out of water. they stayed that way for a few minutes, until Batman saw her eyes flutter. He let her go crashing to the floor as she hacked and gasped for air.

"Ok, she rasped, laying down on her hardwood floor, utterly exhausted. Batman sunk down to one knee, ears pressed to hear antonia's dying voice.

"She...she wanted me to." she said simply, taking a few moments to get her air back.

"What do y-"

"After att-ack, she saw an opp...she let Joker take her. I just made sure no one could...find them."

Both Batman & Bruce wanted to do many things just then. They were overjoyed now that they'd found out what happened. At the same time, they both wanted to hurl Antonia out of that window and watch as she fell 40 stories into traffic. She'd just admitted to signing her best friends death warrant.

Batman glared down at her, his gaze making her squirm. That vicious glare spoke volumes, and Antonia heard every word, nodding.

"Sorry," she croaked, a fat tear falling down her face. She rolled over to her other side, shoulders shivering as she cried silently.

Batman, too angry to do anything else, left the same way he came in.

The now demolished front door.

The resolve behind his One Rule was breaking down fast, and it made him smile.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on Joker.


	21. Back, Finally

**Good GOD it feels good to finally have my computer back! :D Sorry for dropping off the face of the Earth guys & gals! **

* * *

Jonathan was wired. He'd let Scarecrow take over for a while, and he was off retrieving their meds and whatnot.

_This might really be it this time,_ he thought to himself, _the last time we have to see this wretched place._

He smiled at this thought,standing up to pace the heard a scuffle and turned, to look directly into beady, black eyes. The pair smiled at one another, excited to be going off to do what they do best. Scarecrow leapt onto Jonathan, lips locking as they fell to the floor.

Crane was finding it hard to focus on anything, twitching as happy hands found their way under his shirt and into his pants. He let out a breathy sigh a fingernail scraped across his nipple, and became aware the door was still open. This snapped him back into reality, and he punched Scarecrow lightly in the chest.

"Save it for later. We don't have time for...for..."he stopped short, mind going blank as Scarecrow continued to scrape against that sensitive little nub on his chest.

"Sure we do Johnny,"he purred,smirking at Johnathan's squeak after he gave said nipple a particularly hard pinch,"I checked. Guards switch shifts at a quarter till one, 10 minute window between each shift change...just enough time to escape. It's midnight. Now the fuck up."

And, with that, he picked up a struggling Johnathan Crane, closed the door to their cell, and threw him back on the floor.

"The be-"

"No." He attacked Johnathan's pouty little lips, tongue forcing his way inside. Johnathan put up some fight, still afraid they'd miss their window to make a clean get away. All fight ebbed its way out of his body, however, as Scarecrow forcefully grabbed a head full of brown hair and bit down as hard as he could on Crane's neck. A bubble of hot fire exploded in Crane's stomach, letting out both ear and arousal.

"Jesus Christ..." he moaned, Scarecrow kissing the same spot as he made his way back up to Johnathan's lips. Their kiss was way too violent; too much teeth, too much blood, yet it worked for the sado-masochistic pair. Teeth became infused, blood mixed, it made them closer.

Off flew Crane's shirt, fluttering carelessly into the cold air. Scarecrow watched as Jonathan's icy eyes crept shut, losing himself in the heat of his alter ego's mischievous hands and his wandering mouth. Something in Scarecrow didn't want to see those eyes close tonight, however. He kissed each eye lovingly and began to rub at Jonathan's left nipple with his palm. He don't know why, but all of a sudden, he was feeling...sentimental. It made him want to scratch, to bite, to hurt John.

No severely, just enough to keep things interesting.

So, still torturing that that little gumdrop bud, Scarecrow kissed his way down, down, down to nibble on the unabused nipple. Scarecrow could feel both he and Crane hardening, and he suddenly didn't want it. He felt like...this was different. He felt like if they were to fuck right there, in the middle of their cell, they'd have yet another memory to keep them here.

Like this place...like it had become their home. and Scarecrow was _not _going to admit that it had become just that. He very suddenly gave a particularly **hard **pinch to poor Jonathan's nipple, pushing him off after the blue-eyed siren let out a gasp as his eyes flew open and he arched to the pleasurable pain.

"W-what're you doing?" Johnny asked in that sexy little purr, sitting with his legs splayed open. On one hand, Scarecrow wanted to sink down and make those white little legs open a bit wider. On the other hand, he didn't want this damn cell to become a memorial to their sexcapades and love deeds.

Hell no. As soon as they got out of the building, he was smashing that little cock tease against the famous iron gates.

"Later," he said, letting that hunger roll of him in waves. Jonathan shivered, obediently getting up slowly, hard to move with all the blood currently in his neglected dick.

As they quietly exited the door, Jonathan found it bitterly amusing that he now wanted what he had been desperately fighting earlier.

XxXxX

"Sooo, where are we going kimosabe?" Alicia asked, biting sarcasm in every word. She was still a little bitter about being sent flying down the stairs. She was also squished between the window and a line of particularly smelly flunkies.

"We're, uh, going on a Field trip doll. Just fer you!" The Joker said from the driver's seat. He, although an unsurprisingly sane driver, had a terrible habit of texting while driver.

Who the hell texted the Joker anyway?

Bored and pissy, the (secretly) blonde dislodged her camera from between one goons ass crack and stopped to sniff it distastefully.

_My fucking eye's going to fall out before the days over..._begrudgingly, she put the camera to her eye and began to take pictures of the moving people, cars, and buildings. The Joker was a terrible driver, at least to an extent. His actual driving was superb...he just did everything he wasn't supposed to.

He jumped and down in the seat like a spazzed-out kid, he texted like five hundred words a second (surprising), and he frequently stretched that long arm back to snatch Alicias camera. Taking pictures of himself, he seemed the epitome of vanity, prideful of his painstaking make up, of his hideous scars.

"Ya, uh, ya think your art folks will be, uh, satisfied with these?" he asked, fluffing his hair and pouting out his lips. Alicia chuckled, and responded without thinking.

"I think my, uh, art folks wanna see you at work. They'd like to see what you do best." His evil little eyes flashed towards her so fast it stole her breathe.

"And they'll see just that. Startin today," he said it playfully, but the amount of malice in his voice could skin a dog. She had a feeling she'd see what he meant, very soon. He gave her camera back to her, a wordless smile on his face as he began to hum that some french song she instantly recognized as Edith Piaf. Before she could open her mouth to ask, she recognized it.

Recognized it as that same song she'd sung to the Joker when he'd been having his "nightmare".

He stared at Alicia with icy, malicious eyes, the smile never leaving his painted face. Alicia could feel the numb cold spreading throughout her body, extending all the way to the blonde locks that hid under her wig.

She, very suddenly, realized that almost nothing got past the Joker. He saw and observed everything, he just allowed some thing to slip by for kicks. She realized he very well could have killed her back in that alley all those months ago.

And, with stinging horror, she realized that he'd trumped her, and had planned for all of this to happen.

He had her right where he wanted her.

And she had fallen for it.

_...SHIT._


	22. Adrenaline & Predictability

The Joker always found it funny whenever Barbie felt she'd gained the upper hand. Seeing the shit-eating grin behind those sneaky eyes of hers pissed him off immensely, but he always remembered he _always_ had an idea of jut what she'd do next.

"The only fuckin reason she's so, uh, predictable is cause she think's Im gonna kill her," was what he'd told himself the first time he'd broken into her house. Not that Joker din't blame her for thinking that way.

"I mean, uh, killin is my business. And business...is GOOD!" But she was kinda interesting. He'd decided she was only gonna die when she got borin.

_An there's so much...uh...juice in that body it's gonna- uh, uh- be a while b__efore she bites the dust. _

Unless some truly rare type shit happened an she got all traumatized. They usually stopped being funny after the whole trauma thing sprung up. Our Beloved Clown Prince saw something different in her the day they met. Something that made him all extra...interested in the curvy blonde.

Sure, she was attractive - bouncy blonde hair, big brown doe eyes, freckles, perky D-cups, slim waist and wide hips, and toned tan legs ; who WOULDN'T be attracted?

But when she walked into the bank, it wasn't her looks that caught the attention of Joker.

Actually, he hadn't even seen her at first.

He was busy foolin around with one of the bank tellers. A shy, mousy lookin guy, who screamed at every funny face the Joker made. The green-haired psycho remembered being tempted to slash the man's bindings only to jump on him an ride him like a horsy, but they were on a schedule.

Playtime could wait.

"Hey, what the hell are doin?" yelled the last of his goons yell. He turned, ready to just shoot his ass and hop on the bus that was currently sittin pretty inside the bank. Before he could speak, shots were fired.

"Oh shit!" Upon hearing a female voice, Joker's mood changed from bored to pissed all at once. He'd thought one of the hostages had managed to break out their zipties.

Then he realized he should probably pat this person on the back, because even he had a hard time escapin the damn things.

"Um, excuse me,"he started, walking casually toward the sound of trouble. As he did so, he saw a whirl of blonde hair an brown eyes,"was she, uh...one of ours?" he asked, putting another clip into his weapon. The guy turned around and put his hands up, as if he was innocent.

"N-n-no boss! The lil bitty just waltzed right in like she owned the place! Should I bring her back?" the man asked, sighing a quiet breath of relief as the Joker walked to the bus. Before hopping inside, the mass of green hair tilted as if in thought.

"Eh...sorry, but uh...you're fired pal." he turned and shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. The lackey had the most confused look on his face, he didn't even have time to look afraid before Joker unloaded a clip on him. He cackled loudly as the hostages screamed and made the hugest fuss over a few bullets.

"As for the rest of ya,' he yelled, rolling more canisters of Laughing Gas across the floor before going on the bus with his cash,"It's been, uh, it's been fun!" He ran to the front, hopped in the seat, and hit the pedal.

He wasn't actually in a rush to catch this " lil bitty" though. As a matter of fact, if someone had busted in on his operation before, they knew to promptly leave.

Most couldn't outrun_ that_ particular lackey though - he'd been in the military once, sharp shooting was his schtick. Which made him quite curious as to who outran one of the best shooters in Gotham, if not the country. He could always chalk it up to adrenaline, but who was walking around **_that_** wired, that ready for something so chaotic and unexepected?

Anyway, the Joker wasn't concerned about this guy gettin away. In the Jokers experience, scared people didn't get creative about escape.

_As a matter of fact_, he thought as he drove up on the curb behind a running girl, _they don't even try to hide. _

Of course, when somebody was scared enough, they could run for a while. However, that adrenaline mad_e _them blind to the fact _th_ey weren't getting anywhere by running straight ahead.

He laughed as she ran blindly, always straight ahead, past every possible cubby and hidey-hole. He jammed his fist on the horn, immediately prompting her to turn around. From what he could see behind the bus' window shield, she was cute.

And young; about 21 maybe, at the least.

And sure, the Joker's vision was pretty shitty. Hell, he could see about 5 feet in front of him on a good day.

But he knew what he'd seen, otherwise they wouldn't be in their current predicament.

She didn't look scared at all. Joker didn't think she was even aware of her face, but she didn't look afraid at all.

As a matter of a fact, she looked_ free_.

* * *

**END**


	23. Welcome

Alicia actually looked was quite calm. Inside though, she her lungs were shitting chickens. Her heart felt tired an strained in her chest, her blood suddenly felt too hot, and it burned the muscle and skin.

She shut her eyes, anxiety suddenly making her brain shut down. She knew she had to stop freaking out and regroup, but it was so hard. How was she supposed to survive if the Joker knew her every move? How was she going to come up on top, and come out alive? He'd been holding her in his hand this far, an she hadn't known it. She was unprotected now, no Batman to come to her aid and kick the Joker's ass. No phone to call Antonia or the Police.

She'd never felt so alone in her life.

She opened her eyes, the light suddenly too bright. It stung her eyes, but she kept them open, because the pain calmed her down.

She deserved this hurt. As she stared out of the window, life in Gotham went on. people continued to walk in the warm Gotham air, spring soon leading into summer. Even life in the cramped van continued. The Insane Clown Posse laughed and talked as if they were with family, not men who'd kill each other without a second thought. She still held her camera in her striped lap.

She was still there; she was still alive.

So, how was she going to get herself out of the shithole? She looked back out the window, up directly towars the sun. The sun was blinding, but pleasantly so, as if trying to casually tell her a joke as people talked loudly. The noise drowned out her thoughts.

_Fuck...where's my ipod?_

She smiled at the same guy who was sitting on her camera and grabbed her bag. Retrieving her ipod, she shook the purple Nano.

The first thing to come on was a song she'd heard once at a friends house. She like it because the artist, Tyler the Creator, was so pissed about life- and was honest about it. So, she downloaded the mixtape, Bastard, right then and put it on her ipod. Finally putting in her headphones, she let the lyrics pour into her head.

And, as the words poured into her head, she had a thought.

Surviving the Joker not once, but twice, had made her more so on edge than she needed to be. She saw him as threat, something to kill her. And he hadn't shown her any aggression other than those few outburst.

_What the-why am I going in reverse? This whole train of thought is ass-backwards!_

But, as ass-backwards as it was, it made sense...kind of. The fact that he was so unpredictable had constantly stressed her. When she had the idea to photograph him, she told herself that he was stupid.

Big mistake on her part, as she found out later.

Then, she thought he was gonna kill her.

Understandable, but here she was, still alive. After on and off visits and kidnappings from the Joker for months. Hell, he'd been living with her!

And here she was. An that struck a competitive nerve. He'd duped her every time so far, without fail. And why?

Because she was too tense and stiff to even think with her head screwed on.

_Well, fuck him. We play by my rules._

She wasn't gonna go all batshit on him and fight him- unless the need presented itself. As she sat there, she promised herself something; she'd now go by the flow. The first thing that came to her head, she'd do it (unless it involve fighting Joker).

"Hey. Hey!" she looked up, headphone haze now broken thanks to the man beside her.

The van ha stopped in front of...

_...A Pink Boutique? _she mentally squealed, forgetting that she was in a van of murderers and creepers.

Pink was one the most exclusive Boutique in the Tri-state area. They sold all of the best clothes, shoes, and bags ever. It took every muscle in her body not to run into the store an go crazy.

Pink was a two-story brick building, with a hot pink overhead with black shiny stripes. The first floor had the huge display windows, full of mannequins dressed to the hilt in every fashionista dream.

She zoomed onto the mannequin the Boxing Kitten dress with the most amazing knee high Ballenciaga gladiator sandals ever. The one next to it was in a cropped grey bustier, black acid wash skinny jeans, and floral Jeffrey Campbell platforms.

She could've died, looking at the Supreme shirts, striped denim, studded shirts, floral corsets,leopard print and a never-ending supply of bags in every shape, size, an color.

"Uh...why are we here?" she asked, more happy to be looking at the Golden Gates of Fashion Heaven than inquisitive as to why she was there. Nobody answered, and a guy on the end thrust a clown mask and gloves into her face.

"What the f-get that shit outta here bro," she scoffed, pushing the mask away.

"Sigh, guess you don't uh, wanna go shopping today," the Joker said, smiling as the ignition started.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT!" Alicia cried, jumping into his front seat like a wild woman. She didn't even try to save her camera.

Pink Boutique was **SERIOUS FUCKIN BUSINESS**. The Joker stopped moving altogether, looking genuinely surprised at Alicia; who was in his lap, hands on either side of his seat.

"You were taking me shopping?" she asked, eyes squinted.

"Uh...yeah. But, uh, you wanna be all curious and whatnot so-"

"Don't kill anybody," she stated simply.

"Don't what-"

"Don't kill anybody when we go in there. We're going shopping, not on a slaughter-spree." she said, jumping out the fron seat and getting out. The men all got out as one, and again she was handed the mask.

"You want to go crazy with the clothes?" Joker asked, never saying they'd be paying for anything they got out of that store,"you put it on. Until you leave us, uh...you're one of us."

Taking the mask, she looked at it. It was a very simple thing; generic clown mask with the string back. The eye holes were surrounded by pretty purple and gold, the lips smiling and red.

"The shit looks like a gay V for Vendetta mask." everybody snorted at that, patting her on the back when she put it on with the gloves.

As she looked through the eyes of the clown mask, she felt...different.

As a matter of fact, she felt the most disturbing sense of unity. She felt...like she was a part of something. She looked at Joker, who was quiet. He was looking at her with a weird, almost proud smile. Patting her on the back, the usually talkative murderer was short on words as he whispered in her ear:

"Welcome.

* * *

** END!**


	24. Chapter 24

You'd be surprised at the rush gotten when bullying complete strangers.

The look they have in their eyes when they realize they've lost control of a situation, and it's been taken by someone who looks just like them. Someone normal, mundane.

_Or, in my case_, Alicia thought, _a girl in a $2 mask surrounded by weapon toting goons and the Joker._

This wasn't something she'd wanted to do, not really. But she needed this scoop, needed these photos to become immortalized as the talent she knew she was. Looking back to the night The Joker pulled a knife on her, and this morning, she'd realized she let the excitement of being whisked away get to her. While this was the opportunity of a lifetime, it was scary. And it was too much.

She knew, however, that she'd really have to stay on her toes. Take the unexpected like you would the expected. Control your emotions. Think before you speak. The enjoyment was undeniable though.

She'd just raided a clothing shop, just taken everything she could want. At least a grand worth the shoes, clothes, and jewelry she could want. She hadn't done any violent behavior, but being there was enough. Feeling like this was purely for her was enough.

But a new pair of Litas and all the dresses and leather a girl could ask for was definitely a plus, too.

The pictures were amazing. Disturbing, but amazing. People genuinely terrified as much of her as they were the men who hit them or restrained them and threw them up against a wall.

Then there was the Joker, animal wild and totally unrestrained. For a man who made sure to try and sell you the "I don't care" bit, he made sure he was **always** the center of attention. For such a feral jackass, the Clown Prince of Crime had a very real presence that commanded attention. As everyone carried her new purchases to the car, Alicia looked through her camera history.

Clothes, flying everywhere, people screaming and crying, men in masks putting on lingerie or breaking mirrors, feathers, leather...

_Chaos._

And she enjoyed every minute of it. She felt more alive. Editorial pieces had their own brand of adrenaline, sure. She was known for seedy, gritty, perverse.

But, being there...feeling the swirl of emotions...fear, disgust, jubilation...

"Wow," she sighed, taking her seat by the window.

xxxxxx.

"You know, Mr. Wayne," Alfred offered as he calmly set tea and sugar cookies on the bar,"he won't hurt her."

"At least not today Alfred." Bruce finished, stress and fear seeming to be permanently etched into his face. It'd been a little over a month since Alicia had been kidnapped. The police, all beside Gordon, had resigned themselves to the fact she was probably dead.

"He is a maniac sir, if you had just k-"

"I won't, Alfred! I'm not going to become one of them!" They'd had this same conversation many a time. The Joker would not stop. There was no curing him. He was feral, animalistic. But Bruce would not, could not kill him.

A small part of him admitted he needed Joker. Needed that unstoppable force to duel with and validate his crusade to save his home. If he killed Joker, where would that leave him, Gotham? Would a new villain rise? In a way, keeping Joker alive kept everyone else at bay. It left Batman and the Joker in control.

_It's more than just fighting a good fight,_ he told himself, _if I kill him, I'm just as bad. I'm a murderer. I'm no better than Joker, or Scarecrow...or Joe Chill._

And he knew he was_ nothing _like those men. So there was his rule.

Alfred knew this, but it was misguided good intention in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, at what cost? Batman is a symbol...but should Bruce Wayne be made to suffer in his wake? His loved ones? Batman is a champion of Gotham but, at that end of the day, a man. A man who needs to stop sacrificing relationships to martyrdom." The butler said this crossly, and walked off. He'd always liked Alicia, more than even Rachel. He thought she was smart as a whip, and the only real reality check for Bruce.

He was the Dark Knight, the Billionaire Playboy, and she made sure he always made time to be someone he'd often lost: himself.

And he'd hurt her, in more ways then one. Eventually, when she found out his identity, she became another helping hand. The doctor, the maid, the alibi. He loved her, but it all got lost in the sea of his responsibilities.

But he could say that he always protected her...

Until now.

Bruce looked out at the city, failure and disappointment and regret washing over him.

"I can protect strangers, find criminals anywhere in Gotham...but I can't find the one person who means the most." He sipped his tea, worn out. He opened his newspaper, bones creaking.

'JOKER STRIKES AGAIN! NEW MEMBER OF MERRY BAND OF THIEVES!'

This was an angle he'd worked on earlier. The Joker struck places Alicia loved, and that's how he knew she was still alive wherever he was keeping her. He wouldn't steal clothes or jewelry if there wasn't a real reason.

Well, he would, but everything was from a place Alicia frequented. Shoe stores, boutiques, bakeries (the Joker blew that place up Wednesday and only took a box of 2 dozen double chocolate chip muffins).

There was something he'd missed in his research of the scene at the store, though. The Joker and his men were in various places in the women's clothing store. Far off in the corner, was a girl.

She was dressed in a striped dressed, and had on a mask.

But she was crouching, camera in hand, taking pictures of the frightened staff.

And Bruce didn't know how that made him feel: relieved, or disgusted?

xxxxxx

Jonathan was cold, dirty, and tired. His old apartment complex had gone to the dogs, but his room managed to remain untouched. The furniture was in horrible condition, there were bugs everywhere, it smelled of rotting food and death, and at least 77 layers of dust over everything, but it was untouched. Nothing but addicts and prostitutes around the complex. Perfect specimen

"One of the positives of being a crazed killer," he said sarcastically as he managed to find an old blanket in his musty smelling closet. Crow was wandering around the place, inhaling the smell of staleness and mold happily.

"Don't be so ungrateful Johnny!" he yelled, plopping onto the lazy boy.

"There's no heat, no hot water, we don't have any money: what is there to be grateful about? We were better off at the Asylum. " he pouted. Jonathan knew he was being childish, but filth made him that way. It was like being back at-

"this is better than that old whore's place, don't be so dramatic. You sound like a 12 year old girl," Scarecrow hissed, narrowing his eyes. Jonathan complained every minute since they'd been out. It was pissing him off.

And Jonathan knew it. They stared angrily at one another. Their dialogue was silent; they were one in the same, after all.

"We have each other, we have our toxin. We'll be back in business in no time!" Scarecrow yelled, knowing his Johnny was not going to stop complaining until the apartment was spotless and 'liveable' again.

"You wanna go back to that cage, like some frightened fuckin bird? So you can be treated like a docile faggot bird?! We aren't ever going back! This is our chance, and I won't let you fuck this up for comfortability and stability. You aren't fuckin Lucille Ball! You aren't a wife!" he howled, realizing he'd gotten up and was in Jonathan's face.

"You're a man! Act like one!" He pushed him, hard. Harder than he'd planned to. But so what? It was true. Johnny was too comfortable being the quiet little pocket pussy, wanting to be fucked and ordered around like some submissive spouse. Sitting in Arkham had made him that way.

Jonathan went crashing into the dining room table. He got up, slowly. He looked up at Scarecrowm hurt. This was stuff he'd known already. He was ashamed of it, but that didn't give his alter ego, his creation to turn against him like that.

"You are mine," he said, straightening his sweatshirt,"I can get rid of you as easily as I made you. I can even replace you if I want."

And that was just met with a laugh. Scarecrow didn't find the threat particularly funny though.

He kept laughing, voice changing to the one that Jonathan first heard when the toxin had been sprayed into his face. Straw replaced skin, and hot tar bubbled from his mouth. Scarecrow doubled in size, sweatpants going from cotton and drawstring to burlap. Jonathan squirmed, moving towards the door as his alter ego moved toward him.

"Little Johnny, who would you be without me?" the gnarled, boggled voice asked as he got bigger, looming over Jonathan,"a worthless, out of line bird. Flitting about while the bat, or the hawk, or any other creature had its way with you. Raped you, because you're too stupid to be unafraid. Crows often are. But you know what? That's why I'm here...to keep you in line. You're **_nothing_** without me, and don't you ever forget it."

And just like that, he looked like a person again, Jonathan's mirror image.

"We've got work to do."

* * *

End ~ 3


End file.
